
Class 



Hook 



PRESENTED HY 



I 



* 




IP.&E&IP IPHB1S5F. 



P A IR EC II ^ ' 



TOYI^MinLIl FEriIIL©i©FHYc 










"I tried to make the feather go down too, "but it immediately 
rose again, just as the cork." Page 15. 




:-'>^ r . 



" The heat from her "body warms the eggs, and in a few weeks 
the little chicken comes from the shell." Page 125. 



PARKER'S CONVERSATIONS. 



JUYENILE PHILOSOPHY: 

OR, 

PHILOSOPHY IN FAMILIAR CONVERSATIONS; 

DESIGNED TO 

TEACH YOUNG CHILDREN TO THINK. 




BY RICHARD G: PARKER, 

n 

AUTHOR OP THE SCHOOL COMPENDIUM OF NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY, &c. 



NEW YORK: 
A. S. BARNES & COMPANY, 

No. 51 John Street. 

CINCINNATI: H. W. DERBY & CO. 

1850. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 

By A. S. BARNES & Co., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 



Mv^ 




Stereotyped by 
HOBART & ROBBINS; 

NEW ENGLAND TYPE AND STEREOTYPE PWWDBRY, 
BOSTON. 



F. C. GUTIERREZ, 

PRINTER, 

Cor. John and Dutch-streets, N. Y. 



To George C. Shattuck, Sen., Esq., M. 1). 
Dear Sir, 

This little volume affords me an opportunity of presenting a sincere, 
though humble tribute of gratitude and respect, to your eminent pro- 
fessional skill, to which, under Providence, I have twice been indebted 
for restoration to health ; and which has been surpassed only by your 
active, searching and untiring benevolence. 

Very respectfully yours, 

Richard G. Parker. 



CONTENTS. 



Conversation First On Rain 5 

Conversation Second On Color. 19 

Conversation Third On Vision, or Sight, .v. ... 39 

Conversation Fourth On The Eye. j 49 

Conversation Fifth On Light 59 

Conversation Sixth On Fire. -.? / 82 

Conversation Seventh On Heat 99 

Conversation Eighth .On Heat, Continued 114 

Conversation Ninth On Wind 132 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 




CONVERSATION I. 

ON RAIN. 

Child. — Mother, it is raining fast, and I cannot go 
and spend the day with Aunt Mary, as you promised 
that I should. Now I suppose I shall have to stay at 
home, in the house, all day; and I am tired of my 
playthings. I want something else to do. Mother 



6 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



dear, why will you not let me play school with you ? 
You be the pupil, and let me ask questions, as they do at 
the school where brother James goes. If keeping school 
means only asking hard questions, I think I should 
make an excellent school-keeper. I have been thinking 
about a great many things that I see, and I want very 
much to ask some questions about them. Now, mother 
do you be the pupil, and let me ask you some real 
hard questions. I know that you can answer them, 
because I heard father telling you, the other day, about 
some of them ; and father knows all about them, because 
he reads a great many books, and everybody says that 
father is a great scholar. Now, I want to know first, 
where the rain comes from. Will you please to tell 
me? 

Mother. — Rain, my dear, comes from the clouds. 

Child. — But, mother, how does rain get into the 
clouds ? 

Mother. — In order that you may understand how 
the rain gets into the clouds, I must first tell you what 
a cloud is. And that you may understand what a 
cloud is, I must first explain to you what is going on 
in the kitchen. Go out, my dear, and ask Alice the 
cook to lift up the lid of the tea-kettle, and let you see 
what is in it. 



CONVERSATION ON RAIN. 



Child. — I have been, mother, and Alice lifted up 
lid of the tea-kettle, and all that I could see was a la 
quantity of smoke that came out of the tea-kettle, c 
went all over the room ; and when iUice put the lid of 
the kettle on again, some of the same kind of smoke ' 
came out of the nose of the kettle, and the lid of the 




kettle kept making a chattering noise, and the sm« 
came from under the lid just as if some one was pufl 
it out. 

Mother. — It was not smoke that came from the I 
kettle, my dear. It was steam. Now go and ask A 
to take a plate from the china-closet, and hold it o 



8 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



the tea-kettle a minute, after she has taken off the lid, 
and then come and tell me what is on the plate. 

Child. — Oh, mother ! Alice has done as you directed, 
and the plate is covered, all over the bottom, with drops 
of water. Where did the water come from? She did 
not put the plate near the water. 

Mother. — It was not necessary for her to put the 

ite near the water; the water was formed on the 

te ; and now, if you will listen to me, I will answer 

h of your questions at once ; namely, where the rain 

les from, and where the water on the plate came 

1, or rather how it was formed. 

'he steam that came from the tea-kettle was made 

ater. The heat of the fire under the kettle changed 

he water in the kettle to steam, and when the steam 

became cold, the steam was changed back again to 

water. When the steam rose against the cold plate, it 

became cold, and was changed into water. 

Now, you know that there are a great many tea- 
kettles boiling every morning and evening; and the 
steam from them goes up the chimneys of the houses, 
and rises up in the air, and there becomes cold and 
changes into water ; and the water, when it falls down 
again, makes rain. 

Child. — But, mother, if rain is made of steam, what 



<p ^y^y 9 -'° 



CONVERSATION ON RAIN. 



11 



kettle, when Alice lifted the lid ; and that steam was 
nothing more than part of the water, which, being 




heated, was changed into steam, and rose out of the 
tea-kettle and went up the chimney, to assist in forming 
clouds. When all the water in the kettle has risen 
out of it, in the form of steam, Alice tells you that it 
has all boiled away. I hope that you now understand 
what boiling away means. 

Child. — Yes, mother, but there is no fire under the 
clothes when they are hung out to dry. How, then, 
can steam come from the clothes when they are put out 



12 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



of doors to dry, and what has the drying of clothes 
to do with the forming of clouds and rain '? 

Mother. — The moisture of the clothes changes into 
steam more slowly than the water in the tea-kettle, 
but not less surely. It is called vapor, as it slowly 
ascends ; and, indeed, it rises so slowly that Ave cannot 
see it. But if the damp clothes were brought near to 
a hot fire, you could easily see the steam or vapor 
rising from them. 

Child. — What else, mother, assists in forming clouds 
and rain, besides the steam from the tea-kettle and 
the moisture from wet clothes ? 

Mother. — If I were to put a little .Water into a plate, 
and set it out in the sun, or in the air; tl^xvl^er Avould 
soon be gone. Alice would tell you, p'erhap^ thkt it 
has dried up. Now drying up means notjhiii^ more 
than that the water has changed into steam- pr vapor, 
and has ascended into the sky to help iii -farming 
clouds. The same thing takes place when any water 
or any liquid is exposed to the sun. or the air, or the 
heat of a fire. \The water is constantly changing into 
steam or vapftr, and constantly rising up into the air 
and forming clouds. Sometimes it rises so slowly that 
we cannot see it rise, and sometimes very fast, as it 
did when Alice removed the lid of the tea-kettle. 



CONVERSATION ON RAIN. 



13 



Now you know, my dear, that there is a great deal 
of water in some of the ponds and rivers which you 
have seen when we have been riding out into the coun- 
try. Besides these, there are other very large bodies of 
water, called lakes, and seas, and oceans. From all 
these the water is constantly rising up in the form of 
steam or vapor, and forming clouds; and when the 
clouds become sufficiently cold again, they turn back 
again into water, and fall down in the form of rain. 




Child. — But, mother, if rain comes from the clouds, 
where do snow and hail come from ? 



1 1 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Mother. — Snow and hail are formed in the same 
manner with the rain. When the air is very cold, it 
freezes the clouds, and changes them to snow or hail. 

Child. — But, mother, if the clouds are changed into 
water, why do they not all fall down at once, in one 
body of water, together, instead of falling in drops. 

Mother. — Because the clouds do not change all at 
once into water, but gradually. One drop forms at a 
time, as it did on the plate held over the tea-kettle, and 
when it informed it falls. Sometimes it forms in very 
large drops, and at other times in very small ones; so 
small that we can scarcely see them. You know that 
the rain sometimes appears in vefi^large drops, and at 
other tin^ee^he^rops arp so small that we can scarcely 
see them, — and we caff this kind of rain mist. As the 
drops fall also, sometimes two. three or more drops, will 
be driven together by the wind, or some other. gcause, 
and thus form a large drop. A WL \^ 

Child. — Well, mother, I think I know nowMfrhere 
rain comes frond-, ; but I do not under^t^jad^wh^ W falls. 
Steam/^biLsay,,^^*^^, and ?&\^co'4ie$>£hvh. Why 
do not both go up, or both come down ? What makes 
them go different ways ? 

Mother. — You have asked me a question, I fear, my 
dear, that will be more easy for me to answer than for 



CONVERSATION ON RAIN. 



15 



you to understand. But I will try to make it easy for 
you to understand. There is a basin of water on the 
table. Take this gold coin and put it into the basin, 
and tell me where it goes to. 

Child. — It has gone down to the bottom of the basin, 
mother. 

Mother. — Now take the cork from that bottle, and 
put that into the basin. 




Child. — I have ddnfe so, mother, but the cork remains 
on the top of the water. 

Mother. — Take the cork in your hand, my dear. 



16 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

and put it down to the bottom of the basin, at the side 
of the gold coin. 

Child. — It will not stay there, mother; as soon as I 
remove my hand, it rises right up to the top of the water. 

Mother. — Take my scissors, and this needle, and 
also this feather, and put them into the basin. 

Child. — The scissors and the needle, mother, have 
fallen down to the bottom of the water, and the feather 
remains at the top. I tried to make the feather go down 
too, but it immediately rose again, just as the cork. 

Mother. — You see, then, that in water some things 
will fall and others will rise. It is just so in the air. 
Some things rise and others fall in the air. Thus 
smoke and steam and vapor rise, while water, and a 
great many other things, as you know, will fall. 
Things which are lighter than water will rise when 
they are put down into the water, and those things 
which are heavier than water will fall or sink when 
put into the water. So it is in the air. Those things 
which are lighter than air will rise in the air, while 
those things which are heavier than air will fall. When 
you are a little older, and are able to understand it, I 
will explain this subject more fully to you. In the 
mean time, I will only add, that water is one of the 
most interesting subjects of contemplation that our great 



&*W 



CONVERSATION ON RAIN. 



17 



and good Creator has spread before us. It is constantly 
changing, — constantly rising in the form of steam or 
vapor, and as constantly the steam and vapor is 
changed again to water, and falls down in the form of 
rain, snow and hail. This change has been going on 
ever since the creation ; so that, notwithstanding all the 
water which has been used for the various purposes for 
which it is employed, there is now just as much water 
existing, either in the form of steam, vapor, or in its 
proper and common form, as there was when God first 
created the world. 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION FIRST. 

Where does rain come from ? 

What comes from a tea-kettle when water is boiling in it ? 

What is steam made of? 

How can steam be re-ehanged into water ? 

Where does steam go when it rises ? 

Where does water go when it boils away ? 

What is vapor? 

What do we mean when we say " mater dries up" ? 

What is snow ? 

What is hail ? 

What is mist ? 

Why does steam rise ? 

Why does rain fall ? 

Why does cork float in water? 



18 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Why will some things float and others sink in water? 
What things will rise in water ? 
What things will sink in water ? 
What things will rise in the air ? 
What things will fall in the air ? 
What changes is water constantly undergoing ? 
Is there more or less water now than when God first created the 
world ? 



-F 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 



19 




CONVERSATION II. 

COLOR. 

Child. — Mother, you told me, when we were talking 
about rain, that you would tell me why the clouds are 
not always of the same color. Now, you must be my 
pupil again, as you were then, and answer that hard 
question. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, I will; but before I tell 
you, I must do as I did when we were talking about 
the clouds. I must make you answer me some ques- 



20 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



tions too, so that you may be made to think yourself; 
for you can always recollect best what is told you, 
when you are made to think about it first. Now, be- 
fore I tell you why the clouds are not always of the 
same color, I must ask you about that pretty blue 
frock which you have on. When you go to bed at 
night, it is hung on the chair by the side of your bed. 
When the light is removed from your chamber, what 
color does your frock then appear to be ? 

Child. — Why, mother, I cannot see it at all — no- 
body can see anything in the dark. 

Mother. — You are mistaken, my child. It is true 
that neither you nor I can see it ; but puss can see it 
almost as well in the dark as she can in the daytime. 
Cats, and some other animals, are gifted with this 
remarkable faculty. 

Child. — Why, mother, can cats see in the dark? I 
should think that would be impossible. How can they 
do it? 

Mother. — I will explain that to you, my dear, after 
I have done with the color of the clouds, which you 
first asked about. All good teachers are contented to 
wait for the answers to their first questions, before they 
expect answers to others. Now, if I am to be your pupil, 
you must let me answer one question at a time, and 

i i - = ^ ^ = 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 



21 



when I have given you a satisfactory answer, then I will 
listen to any other that you may propose. You told me 
that you could not see your blue frock, nor anything 
else, in the dark. But the frock is there, notwithstand- 
ing that you cannot see it, and so also are the chairs, 
and the tables, and the glasses, and the pictures, 
although you cannot see them. If the light be brought 
back into the room, you can then see them all in their 
proper places, which shows you that they do not go out 
with the light. 

Child. — Yes, mother, I know that they have not 
been removed, but that I cannot see them without a light. 

Mother. — As soou as the light is brought back, you 
can see the color of them too. But could you not, in 
the dark, tell whether the things are in the room ? 

Child. — Yes, mother, I could feel them, by groping 
about the room in the dark. 

Mother. — And when you feel them, can you feel 
the color too ? 

Child. — No, mother, I could not feel the color. 

Mother. — If there were two things of the same 
kind, — such, for instance, as a blue and a red ribbon, 
— could you tell, in the dark, which is the red and 
which is the blue one ? 

Child. — No, mother, I am sure I could not. 



22 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — But you could distinguish a sheet from a 
blanket, on the bed, in the dark, could you not ? 

Child. — Yes, mother, because they feel very differ- 
ently. The sheet is made of linen, and feels soft and 
smooth; but the blanket is made of wool, and feels 
rough and hairy. 

Mother. — The color, then, cannot be known until 
the light is brought, and then it reappears. Now, if the 
color comes with the light, and disappears when the 
light is removed, what must color depend on ? 

Child. — Why, mother, color must depend on the 
light, does it not? 

Mother. — Yes, my child, color depends wholly on 
the light ; and where there is no light, there can be no 
color. 

Child. — But, mother, if color depends on the light, 
why is not everything of the same color? How can 
light paint everything so beautifully — some things blue, 
some red, and other beautiful colors. I should think 
that everything would appear light color, if I thought 
that light had any color. 

Mother. — That is the very thing I propose to ex- 
plain to you, my dear. Here is a thick piece of glass, 
with three sides. It looks just like those drops hanging 
from the lamps over the fire-place, only the sides are 



CONVERSATION OX COLOR. 23 

all alike, and. for that reason, it is called a prism. 
Take it into your hand. Caroline, and hold it up to 
the light, and tell me what you see. 

Child. — I cannot see anything through it, mother, 
only it looks light. 

Mother. — Turn it a little, very slowly, while you 
hold it up to your eye. 




Child. — Oh. mother, how many beautiful colors 
there are in it. as I turn it round! There are red. and 
blue, and yellow, aad other beautiful colors in it. 

-Mother. — Yes. my dear: and now take this thick 
glass, which you see contains nothing but water, and 
tell me whether v./ii can see any colors in it. when you 
\ hold it up to the light. 



24 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — Yes, mother, I see the same colors again, 
in the glass of water. 




Mother. — Well, Caroline, I suppose you know that 
the colors are neither in the glass nor in the water; 
for, if they were, you could see them without holding 
the glass up to the light. 

Child. — Yes, mother, I see that the colors are neither 
in the glass nor in the water, and they appear only 
as the glass is held up to the light. *f Now, mother, I 
shall haye to ask you that other hard question, which 
you spoke of when we were talking about the rain. 
I must ask you what light is, which. paints everything 
so beautifully? 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 25 

Mother. — You must not forget, my dear, that I have 
not yet answered your former question, why the clouds 
do not always appear of the same color. I shall give 
you a satisfactory answer to that question presently. 
But I must first explain to you something about light 
and color. 

It has pleased our great and good Creator to. permit 
us to find out some of his works ; but not all. Thus I 
have told you what rain is, and where it comes from. 
But nobody knows what light is, except the great 
Creator himself. All that I can say, in answer to your 
question, is, that we know a great many things about 
light, but tve do not know what light is. Thus we 
know that it appears to move very fast, and always 
to go in straight lines, without turning in any direction, 
of itself. We know that it will go directly through 
some things, while there are other things which it goes 
through with great difficulty, and others that it cannot 
pass through at all. You can see through the panes 
of glass in the window into the street, but, if you 
cover the glass iij the window with paper, you can- 
not see distinctly through the paper, and, if a board 
were placed before the window, you could not see 
through it at all. 

Child. — Well, mother, if you cannot tell me what 



26 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

light is, can you tell me what color is, that light brings 
with it? 

Mother. — Yes, my child, and I can tell you many 
more things about light also. When you held the glass 
up to the light, you saw many beautiful colors, which 
you know were not in the glass, but must have been in 
the light. You recollect, I suppose, telling me, a few 
minutes ago, that you should suppose that everything 
would appear light color, if you thought that light had 
any color. Now I must tell you that light has not one 
color, but several, and all the colors which you saw in 
the glass were nothing but the colors of light. 

Child. — Colors of light, mother ] If light has colors, 
why do we not always see them ? 

Mother. — We do, my dear, but not always all to- 
gether, nor all on the same thing. Light is made of 
colors, so skilfully and beautifully mixed up together by 
the great God of heaven, that we do not see them sepa- 
rately, except on different objects. You have seen Alice 
the cook make cake, and are fond of eating it when she 
has made it. You know that it is made of flour, and 
sugar, and eggs, and butter, and many other good things. 
When they are all mixed together and baked, you cannot 
see the sugar, nor the butter, nor the flour, nor the eggs, 
nor the other good things. And when you eat the cake, 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 



27 



you do not taste any one of them in particular. It is 
the combination, that is, the mixing together, of the 
flavor of each, which produces that pleasant taste which 
children love so much in cake. You have also seen 
me squeeze a lemon, which you know is very sour, 
into a pitcher, with some water and sugar, thus pro- 
ducing a very pleasant drink, called lemonade. 

Now, when you drink the lemonade, you do not taste 
the lemon alone, nor the sugar alone, nor the water 
alone, but you taste them all together. Their flavors 
are united, and produce that very agreeable drink, of 
which almost every one is so fond. So it is with light. 
The colors are so beautifully mixed together that we 
do not see any one of them, but all together. 

Child. — But, mother, if, as you say, we cannot see 
the colors in light, how do we know that light is com- 
posed of colors? You told me that nobody knows what 
light is, except the great God that made it. 

Mother. — It is true, my child, nobody knows what 
light is, but I told you that I could tell you many things 
about it. Now listen to what I say. Light, as I told 
you, moves very fast, and always goes in a straight line 
from the place from which it comes ; but, when it passes 
from the air through glass or through water, or from 
any one substance to another, it is always turned out 



2S JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

of its course, and goes in a straight line in a little differ- 
ent direction. And it has been found that some of the 
colors of which light is composed, in going from one sub- 
stance into another, are turned out of their course more 
than others, and they thus become separated, and we 
can see them each separately and distinctly. When 
you looked through the prism, or three-sided glass, which 
I showed you, you saw them separated. 

Child. — Well, mother, why could I not see the sepa- 
rate colors in the room, if the glass caused them to 
separate ] 

Mother. — Because, my dear, the light which came 
into the room from the windows was all around it, and 
you saw other light besides that which came through 
the prism. If I had shtit the shutters in the room, and 
made the room dark, and let the light into the room 
only through a small aperture in one of the shutters, 
and then put the prism up to the aperture, letting no 
light come into the room ex&^pt that which came 
through the prism, you would then have seen the colors 
of light all separated. You would have seen on the wall 
a beautiful bright place, part red, part orange, part yel- 
low, part green, part bine, part indigo, and part violet. 

Child.' — Dear mother, how wonderful ! But I do not 
understand why some things, when the light shines 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 29 

upon them, appear red, and others blue, and others of 
different colors. Can you explain that to me ? 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, I can, but you must assist 
me in explaining it. Take your little ball, and throw it 
against the door, and tell me what it does, after it strikes 
against the door. 

Child. — Why, mother, I have done so, and the ball 
comes right back again towards me. 

Mother. — That is very true, Caroline. Now, my 
child, take a tea-spoonful of water, and throw it against 
my handkerchief, as I hold it spread out before you, 
and tell me whether the water will come back to you, 
like the ball which you threw against the door. 

Child. — No, mother, the water does not come back ; 
it remains in the handkerchief. 

Mother. — That is precisely the manner in which the 
colors of light are affected. Some of the colors of the 
light which shines on objects come back to our eyes, as 
the ball did from the door, and others remain in the 
object, as the water did in the handkerchief. And the 
things which we are looking at always appear of that 
color which comes back, or, as philosophers call it, are 
reflected. Those colors which do not come back are 
said to be absolved. 

Child. — What a glorious thing light must be, mother, 



30 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



that produces such wonderful effects ! But you told 
me that there were only seven different colors in 
light. You said they were red, orange, yellow, green, 
blue, indigo, and violet; but there are a great many 
other colors, besides these. There is gray, and olive, 
and purple, and scarlet, and crimson, and a great many 
other colors, and particularly black and white. You 
did not mention any of these. Now, mother, there are 
a great many things which are black, and a great many 
which are white, like the beautiful snow. 

Mother. — No, my dear, I did not mention them, and 
I will now tell you the reason. You know that Alice 
sometimes makes cake of different kinds. Sometimes 
she puts eggs and butter into the cake, and sometimes 
she does not ; and the cake tastes of all the materials 
united, which she puts into it* Now, as I told you, 
light is composed of all the colors which I mentioned 
to you. But it comes back, or is reflected, from the 
objects on which it falls, in a great many different ways. 
Sometimes only one of the colors is reflected, — as blue, 
for instance, — and then the objects appear to be blue; 
and sometimes the red and the blue are both reflected, 
and then the objects appear of a purple color, which is a 
mixture of red and blue. All colors are thus produced 
by a mixture of several of these seven colors ; but some- 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 31 

times none of the colors are reflected, but they are all 
absorbed. Can you tell me, Caroline, how an object 
would look that reflects none of the colors ? 

Child. — Why, mother, if none of the colors are 
reflected, we could not see it at all. 

Mother. — You are not right, my child; we could see 
it, although it has no color. 

Child. — Why, mother, how can that be? Every- 
thing that we see is of some color or other, or of several 
colors mixed together. 

Mother. — There again you are wrong. We can see 
many things that have no color ; but then those things 
must look just as your blue frock would look in the 
dark. Now if you recollect what I said about the dark, 
you perhaps can tell me what color the blue frock is of, 
in the dark. 

Child. — Why, mother, it would look all dark and 
black. 

Mother. — Precisely so; and that is the way that 
all things appear from which no light is reflected. All 
the colors are absorbed; and, of course, the objects that 
reflect no colors can have none, and must appear as 
they would if it were in the dark. 

Child. — Why, mother, is not black a color ? 

Mother. — No, it is merely the absence of all color, in 



32 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

the same manner as darkness is merely the absence of 
light 

Child. — How wonderful! I always thought that 
black is a color. 

Mother. — That is a very common mistake, but it is 
no less a mistake because it is common. 

Child. — But, mother, if black is not a color, white 
certainly must be one, is it not ? 

Mother. — No, white is not one color, any more than 
cake is all one thing. Cake, you know, is not all flour, 
nor all sugar, nor all butter, nor all eggs, but it is a 
mixture of them all ; and the nicer the articles of which 
the cake is made, the nicer, you know, the cake itself 
will be. White also is not a color, but it is the mixture 
of all the seven colors which you saw in the prism ; and 
the nicer the colors are, the purer and brighter will be 
the white which they produce. 

You know that the wheels of a carriage sometimes go 
round so fast that you cannot distinctly see the spokes 
or sticks which form the wheel. Now, if we take a 
round piece of board or a card, and paint the seven 
colors on it in a certain way, like the spokes of a 
wheel, and, sticking a pin through the middle of it, we 
make it go round fast on the pin, just as the wheel 
of a carriage would go round if it were lifted from the 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 33 

ground, and made to turn fast, you could not see the 
different colors which are painted on the card, any 
more than you can see the separate spokes of the 
wheel. As the wheel turns round, all the spokes 
seem to run together, and the wheel appears as if it 
were full of spokes. So it will be with the colors painted 
on the card. We could not see any one of them, but 
they would appear to be mixed together, and look white. 

Child. — But. mother, light does not look white, like 
snow. 

Mother. — No. Caroline, it does not. And when the 
snow is melted, and becomes water, it does not then look 
white, like snow, but it looks just like the light when we 
look at it as it enters the window. The purer the colors 
are of which white is made, the purer the white itself 
will be. The snow is water, or rather vapor, frozen : 
and, although you can see through ice, yet you can see 
more distinctly through the water of which ice is made, 
when it is melted. In other words, the colors are all 
reflected, but not perfectly, by the snow, and that is the 
reason that the snow looks white : but. when the colors 
are all perfectly reflected, the whiteness is of a purer 
kind, like light itself. So it will be in the painted cara. 
The whiteness produced by the colors when the card is 
turned will not be a pure white, like light, nor even so 



34 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

pure as the snow, and the reason is, that man cannot 
produce colors so pure as those which exist in light. 
Nothing which man makes is so pure or so perfect as 
that which God makes. 

Child. — Well, mother, you told me that the clouds 
are composed of steam, or vapor. If they are all made 
of the same thing, why are they not all of the same 
color ? 

Mother. — Now, Caroline, I shall be able to answer i 
this question, which, if you recollect, is the same that I 
you began with in this conversation. I told you that 
light passes easily through some things, and with more 
difficulty through others. The clouds are composed of 
steam, or vapor, as I told you. But they are constantly 
changing. Sometimes they are very thin, and a small 
quantity of vapor swells out, and fills a great space ; at 
other times, a large quantity of the vapor is pressed to- 
gether, and becomes very thick. Now, if I were to make 
two pin-cushions of the same size, but stuff the one with 
more wool than the other, it will be more difficult to stick 
a pin into the one which is stuffed with the greater quan- 
tity of wool. So it is with the light which shines on a 
cloud. When they arc thin, the light passes through 
them easily, and they appear white, or nearly so ; and, 
when they are very thick, the light passes through 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 35 

them with great difficulty, and they appear of darker 
tints. Just before they are converted into water, they 
become thick, so that no light, or but very little light, 
can pass through them ; they then appear very dark. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother, and that is the reason that, 
when we see a great black cloud in the sky, you 
always say that it is going to rain. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, I say that I expect it will 
rain; but I do not always know that it will, because the 
wind may blow the cloud away from over our heads, 
and then it will fall in rain at some other place, perhaps 
at a great distance from us. 

Child. — I now understand, dear mother, why the 
clouds appear of so many beautiful colors. But when 
there are no clouds, the sky always appears of a beau- 
tiful blue. Can you tell me the reason of that ? 

Mother. — Yes, my child; you know that I told you, 
when you were looking at the prism, that some of the 
colors of light are more easily turned out of their 
course than others, when they pass from one sub- 
stance into another. 

Child. — Yes, mother, and I believe that the red rays, 
the orange and the yellow, were turned the least, and 
the violet, the indigo, and the blue, the most of all. 

Mother. — Well, my dear ! Now if you take a feather 



36 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 






in one hand, and a ball in the other, and throw them 
both at once from your hand, which could be more 
easily stopped, the ball or the feather? 

Child. — Why, mother, the feather, to be sure. But 
what has that to do with the color of the sky? 

Mother. — Nothing, my dear, except to explain one 
thing by its resemblance to another. Now the blue rays 
of light, like the feather, are very easily stopped. They 
cannot pass wholly through the air, while all the other 
colors readily pass through it, and we see only the blue 
ones which are passing through the atmosphere. When 
a bullet is fired from a gun, it goes so fast that we cannot 
see it ; but, if a stone is thrown by the hand, we can 
see it all the time that it is moving. 

Child. — I understand it now, dear mother. And 
now can you tell me why the sun sometimes looks red, 
like a ball of fire ? 

Mother. — Yes, child ; the red rays go with so much 
force that they can pass through mist and vapors so 
thick that the other rays cannot penetrate them. When 
the air is filled with vapors, the red rays of the sun 
come through the vapors, and we see them when we 
cannot see the other colors which exist in the bright 
beams of the glorious sun. 

And now, my dear, there is another singular and 



CONVERSATION ON COLOR. 



very beautiful thing which we sometimes see in the 
sky, but never, excepting when the sun shines on one 
side of the heavens, while there is rain falling from a 
cloud on the other. That is the rainbow. It is caused 
by the sunshine, or the light from the sun. As it 
attempts to pass through the rain and the clouds, the 
colors of light become separated, and we see all the 
beautiful colors which you saw in the prism. 




QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION SECOND. 
Of what color is everything in the dark ? 
Can any one see in the dark ? 
What animals can see in the dark ? 



38 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Can you distinguish colors in the dark ? 

Can you distinguish anything in the dark? 

What does color depend on ? 

Can there be any color where there is no light ? 

What is a prism ? 

What is light ? 

In what direction does light always move ? 

Can light pass through solid substances ? 

Where do colors come from ? 

If colors come from light, why do we not always see them all to- 
gether ? 

When light passes from one substance into another, what effect is 
produced ? 

What colors are found in light ? 

What is meant by light being reflected ? 

What is meant by light being absorbed ? 

How do those bodies appear which reflect all the light that falls on 
them? 

How do those bodies appear which absorb all the light that falls on 
'them ? 

How are all colors produced ? 

Can we see things that have no color ? 

Is black a color ? 

If black is not a color, what is it ? 

Is white a color ? 

If white is not a color, what is it ? 

What is the reason that snow looks white ? 

Why are not the clouds always of the same color ? 

Why does the sky appear blue ? 

Why does the sun sometimes look red ? 



I 



OR SIGHT. 39 



CONVERSATION III. 

VISION, OR SIGHT. 

Child. — Mother, you told me that cats and some 
other animals can see in the dark almost as well as they 
can in the light, and you promised to explain the reason 
to me. Now please to tell me, mother. 

Mother. — I will try, my dear, to make it plain to 
you; but first shut your eyes, and tell me what you 
see. 

Child. — Why, mother, I cannot see at all, when I 
shut my eyes ; nobody can. 

Mother. — Well, my dear, you know, then, that to 
see at all, it is necessary to have eyes ; and, therefore, if 
there is any difference in the faculty of seeing, in differ- 
ent animals, the difference must be in the manner in 
which their eyes are constructed. 

Child. — I suppose it must be so, mother, because you 
say so. But cats sometimes shut their eyes ; can they 
then see, when their eyes are shut 1 

Mother. — No, Caroline; no animal can see when its 
eyes are shut. But before I explain to you the differ- 
ence in the eyes of cats, I must explain to you some- 



40 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



thing about your own. Now look directly at my eyes, 
as I am looking at you, and tell me what colors you 
see in my eyes. 

Child. — All around the edges, dear mother, your 
eyes look white ; but then there is a round part, within 
the edges, which is blue; but directly in the middle 
there is a little round place, which looks very black. 

Mother. — It is that little round place in the middle 
of the eye, which you say looks so black, that I wish 
you to notice particularly, my dear. It is called the 
pupil of the eye. Now, Caroline, let us go into the 
darkest corner of the room, and then do you look at 
that little spot in my eyes, and tell me whether you 
can see any alteration in it. 

Child. — No, mother, I do not see that it has altered 
much, only it looks a little larger. 

Mother. — Now let us go together to that part of the 
room where the sun is shining, and then do you tell me 
whether you can see any difference. 

Child. — Why, mother, it is a great deal smaller now. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear ; and now take puss the 
cat, and look at her eyes in the same ways that you did 
at mine, and tell me what difference you see. 

Child. — Why, mother, when I looked at pussy's 
eyes in the dark corner of the room, that little black 



CONVERSATION ON VISION, OR SIGHT. 4l 

part in the middle, which you called the pupil, was 
quite large ; and when I brought her into the sunshine, 
it almost closed up, and looked very narrow. 

Mother. — Did you observe no difference also in the 
shape of the pupil in the cat's eyes and in mine? 

Child. — Yes, mother; in your eyes it is round, and 
in the cat's it is not round, but shaped more like an 
egg, — longer than it is wide. 

Mother. — You have now described to me the differ- 
ence in the eyes of cats, and other animals that can see 
in the dark, and our eyes. You have noticed that the 
pupil of the eye, both in a cat and in a human being, 
becomes larger in a dark place, and smaller in a light 
one. I must now tell you that we can see only by that 
light which passes through the pupil to the inside of 
the eye, and that the pupil itself is nothing more than 
an opening in the eye, to admit the light to pass to the 
inside of the eye, and enable us to see. You know that 
some people have blue eyes, like mine, others have 
black ones, and some hazel, and other colors. The 
color of the eye depends on the colors of the light 
which are reflected from this part of the eye, called the 
iris. But the light which enters the pupil passes to the 
inside of the eye, and the pupil always appears black, 
because no light is reflected from it. Now, the larger 



42 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

the pupil is, the greater will be the quantity of light 
which enters into the eye. As the pupil of the eyes of 
cats becomes much larger in dark places than the pupil 
of our eyes, those animals can see more readily than 
we can, where there is very little light. 

Child. — What is the reason, mother, that when I go 
into a dark place, it at first appears very dark, and I 
cannot see anything at all ; but after I have been there 
a short time, I begin to see things, at first indistinctly, 
and afterwards more clearly ? 

Mother. — The reason, my dear,- is, that while you 
are in a light room the pupil of your eye is small, or 
rather open but little; and when you go into a dark 
place, but little light can go through the pupil into the 
eye. But while you continue in the dark place, the 
pupil gradually grows larger, or rather opens wider, 
and thus admitting more light, you begin to see better. 

Child. — And when I come from a dark place into 
the sunshine, or into a very light room, I cannot see so 
well as I did in the dark place. What is the reason of 
that, mother? 

Mother. — The eye, my child, is a very delicate and 
tender thing, and is easily affected. You know that 
you cannot look directly at the sun, when it is shining 
brightly, because, as you say, it dazzles your eye. 



CONVERSATION ON VISION, OR SIGHT. 



43 



Now, when you have been in a dark place for some 
time, the pupil of your eye has grown larger, to admit 
more light, to enable you to see. When you come into 
the sunshine, or into a light room, with the pupil thus 
enlarged, the light in the room dazzles your eye, until 
the pupil has had time to grow smaller, so as to pre- 
vent so much light from passing into the eye. 

Child. — What is the reason, mother, that grand- 
father, and a great many other old people, put on spec- 
tacles when they read, or wish to see anything near to 
them? 




Mother. — The eye, my dear, in order to see well, 
must be of a particular shape, and all its parts must be 
formed in a particular manner. The eye itself is gener- 



44 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

ally perfectly round; but it is often the case, as people 
grow old, their eyes lose a little of their roundness, and ^ 
become more flat. It is then necessary for them to 
wear glasses, in order to make the light pass to the 
proper place inside of the eye, to enable them to see. 

Child. — But, mother, there is Cousin George, he is 
not old ; he is not yet a man ; and yet he wears specta- 
cles. Are his eyes too flat to see well 1 

Mother. — No, Caroline, quite the contrary; his 
eyes are not too flat, — they are too round. 

Child. — Why, mother, Avill spectacles assist the 
sight of both those whose eyes are too flat and those 
also whose eyes are too round? 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, they will; but the glasses 
in the spectacles must be of different shape for those 
whose eyes are too round. Did you ever examine 
your Cousin George's spectacles, to see whether the 
glasses are like those in your grandfather's? 

Child. — No, mother; I always supposed they were 
alike, except that grandfather's spectacles are gold, and 
Cousin George's are steel. 

Mother. — Well, Caroline, your Cousin George could 
not see with your grandfather's spectacles, nor could 
your grandfather see with Cousin George's. If you 
were to examine the glasses in each, you would see 



CONVERSATION ON VISION, OR SIGHT. 



45 



that they are no more alike than the inside and the out- 
side of a cup or a saucer ; and if you were to break one 
of the glasses into halves, you would see that your 
grandfather's are thickest in the middle and thinnest at 
the edges, while the glasses in your Cousin George's 
are thickest at the edges and thinnest in the middle. 




Child. — But, mother, I have seen grandfather some- 
times, when he had not his spectacles with him, holding 
a paper he wanted to read at a great distance from his 
eyes, while Cousin George, when he reads without his 
spectacles, holds his book so close to his eyes that he 
almost touches them with his book. What is the 
reason of this, mother ? 



46 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — The reason is, my child, that when the 
eyes lose their natural roundness and become more flat, 
they can see things best when they are held far off 
from the eye. This is called being far-sighted. But 
when the eyes are too round, they cannot see things at 
a distance, but the thing to be seen must be brought 
near to the eye. This is called being short-sighted, or 
near-sighted. It is the eyes of old persons, generally, 
that are too flat; it is very rarely the case that the 
eyes of old people are too round. 

Child. — Why, mother, a short time ago, there was a 
little girl who could not see very well without holding 
her book so close to her eyes as almost to touch them. 
The teacher told her that she would better request her 
parents to procure a pair of spectacles for her. Accord- 
ingly, she came to school, the next day, with her grand- 
mother's spectacles on ; and she said that she could see 
much better with them than without them.* 

Mother. — If she said so, my dear, she either de- 
ceived herself, or said what was not true? She could, 
in fact, see no better with her grandmother's specta- 
cles than you can with your grandfather's, nor, indeed, 
so well. But I suppose she wanted to wear the spec- 

# This fact actually occurred, in the school of which the author had 
the charge, a few years ago. 



CONVERSATION ON VISION, OR SIGHT. 



47 



tacles for the same reason that foolish boys sometimes 
wish to smoke cigars, — not that it is any benefit to 
them, nor that they derive any pleasure from it ; but 
they very unwisely think it makes them appear like 
men. Children are very fond of imitating those who 
are older than themselves, and they are too apt to 
imitate either their faults or their infirmities, instead 
of their virtues and their good example. 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION THIRD. 

Can any animals see in the dark ? 
What can you see when you shut your eyes ? 
What is it necessary to have, in order to be able to see ? 
Why can some persons see better than others ? 
When you look at a person's eyes, what can you see ? 
What is the pupil of the eye ? 
How does an increase of light affect the pupil ? 
How does the decrease of light affect the pupil? 
Does the pupil of the eye of a cat alter in size in the sunshine ? 
What difference is there in the shape of the pupil, in the eyes of a 
cat, and in those of a man or woman ? 
Why can a cat see in the dark ? 

Why are the eyes of different persons of different color ? 
On what does the color of the eye depend ? 

Why do all things appear dark when you first go into a dark room ? 
How can you afterwards see things distinctly in the same room ? 



, 



48 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Why can you not see well when you first come from a dark place 
into a bright room ? 

Why do old people generally wear spectacles ? 

Why do young persons sometimes wear spectacles? 

What is the difference between the spectacles which old people gen- 
erally wear and those which young people sometimes wear ? 

Can old persons see with the spectacles made for young persons, or 
young persons see with spectacles made for old ones ? 

In what part are the glasses in the spectacles of old persons the 
thickest ? and in what part are glasses in the spectacles of young per- 
sons the thickest? 

How do old persons hold their book or paper, when they read with- 
out their glasses ? 

What is meant by being far-sighted ? 

What is meant by being short-sighted ? 



CONVERSATION ON THE EYE. 49 



CONVERSATION IV. 

THE EYE. 

Child. — Mother dear, you told me so many interest- 
ing things about rain, and the clouds, and the light, and 
the beautiful colors, that I am sure I shall never be tired 
of thinking about them. You also told me all about 
grandfather's spectacles, and Cousin George's, and about 
people having eyes too round or too flat, and I believe 
I shall be looking at everybody's eye, to see whether 
their eyes are round or flattened. 

Mother. — That would be a very useless task, my 
dear, because you could not tell, by looking at them, 
whether they were too round or too flat. Everybody's 
eyes look round alike; but the eye is a very beautiful 
piece of mechanism, consisting of no fewer than ten 
different parts, each of which has a different name. 
You are too young to unders tand all these hard names 
now, and therefore it will be useless for me to mention 
them to you. But I will tell you that some of these 
parts are shaped very much like the glass in your grand- 
father' s spectacles; and it is these parts, in the inside of 
the eye, that become too round or too flat, and not the 



50 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

whole eye. You cannot see these parts in anybody's 
eye; but there is no eye without them. There is 
another thing, however, about the eye, which you 
should observe, in order that you may see how wonder- 
fully our great and good Creator has protected the eye, 
the most delicate and sensitive part of our frame. You 
know how much pain it gives you when a little dust 
or water, or any little mote, gets into your eye. Now, 
look at my eyes, and tell me what there is above 
them. 

Child. — Why, mother, I do not see anything above 
your eyes, except those long hairs, which you have told 
me are called eye-lashes ; and above them, another 
small portion of hair, which, I believe, you called the 
eye-brows. Then, above your eye-brows, there is your 
forehead, and then your long, beautiful hair. Have 
these anything to do with the eyes, or with seeing ? 

Mother. — They have not, my dear, anything to do 
with seeing; but the eye-lids and eye-brows are designed 
to protect the eyes. Now, when the hair is wet, the 
water will run down, you know, all over the face ; can 
you tell me what prevents its running into the eyes ? 

Child. — Oh yes, I see now, mother; the eye-brows 
make it turn and run down by the side of the eye, 
instead of running directly into it. But what is the use 



CONVERSATION ON THE EYE. 51 

of the eye-lashes, mother ? The eye-brows alone pre- 
vent the water running into the eye. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear; but when Alice is taking 
up the ashes from the grate, or is sweeping the room, 
the fine dust and ashes, you know, will rise all over the 
room, and afterwards fall down again, covering every- 
thing in the room with fine dust. Now, can you tell 
me what prevents the dust, as it falls, from falling 
directly into her eyes 1 

Child. — Oh yes, dear mother; I see now that the eye- 
lashes will prevent the dust from entering into her eyes, 
in the same manner that the gauze over the picture- 
frames prevents the dust from injuring them. 




Mother. — But that is not all, my child. When you 
walk out into the bright sunshine, the eye-lashes, being 
spread out over and before the eye, partly cover them, 
and protect them from being dazzled by the bright sun- 
shine. Sometimes the eye-lashes are not sufficient, 



52 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

when looking at a bright object, and then we put up 
our hand over the eye, to protect it more. 

Many years ago, a nation called the Carthaginians 
took a Roman general prisoner, whose name was Regu- 
lus. He was a very good man, but the Carthaginians 
did not like him, because he had done their nation much 
harm. When they took him prisoner, they treated him 
very cruelly, and, among other things which they did, 
they put him into a dark dungeon and cut off his eye- 
brows and eye-lashes, and then carried him out and 
exposed him to the bright sunshine, with his hands 
tied behind him. Now, do you know how this would 
affect him ? 

Child. — Oh yes, mother, his *eyes would be dazzled 
by the bright sunshine, and all the dust floating in the 
air would get into his eyes, and pain him very much. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, and he, undoubtedly, suf- 
fered very much from this act of cruelty. But I have 
not told you yet all that God has done to protect your 
eyes. You know that you can shut your eyes when 
you please, and open them when you please. You 
know, also, that when you go to sleep, you always shut 
your eyes. Now, could you not sleep with your eyes 
open? 

Child. — Why, no, mother; everybody Shuts the eyes 



CONVERSATION ON THE EYE. 53 

when going to sleep. Even puss, and the dog, and 
every other animal. 

Mother. — Yes, Caroline, but when you go to sleep, 
do you know at what particular moment of time your 
eyes close? 

Child. — No, mother; how can I tell? Can anybody? 

Mother. — No, my dear, no one can tell. The eyes 
close of themselves, without our shutting them ; nor are 
we conscious of their shutting. But why do you sup- 
pose that the eyes close when we go to sleep ? 

Child. — Why, mother, who could sleep with his eyes 
open? 

Mother. — A great many people get up when they 
are asleep, and walk about with their eyes open, 
without waking up. They are called somnambulists, 
because they walk in their sleep. But do not your eyes 
open and shut of themselves, very often, when you are 
wide awake, without your thinking at all about it ? 

Child. — Why, no, mot\ier; how can my eyes open 
and shut without mf knowing anything about it ? 

Mother. — They do, my child, very often. Look at 
my eyes, and see whether I can keep them open ldfrg 
without their moving. 

Child. — Why, mother, you only ivinked while I 
looked at voaif 



54 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Mother. — And what is winking, but opening and 
shutting your eyes ? Now, if a person hold up anything 
suddenly to the face of another person, that person im- 
mediately opens and shuts his eyes ; that is, he winks : 
and he does this without intending to do it, or even 
knowing that he has done so. And this is a faculty 
with which our great Creator has endowed us, for the 
purpose of protecting the eye, by closing it, that is, 
covering it with a thick covering, called the eye-lid. 
And now, as you did not answer the question I just 
asked, — why the eyes close when we go to sleep, — I 
must tell you that* 1 was caused by our good Creator, to 
prevent anything from getting into our eyes, to injure 
them, while we sleep, and are unable to protect them 
by covering them with our hands. 

Child. — But, mother, why did he make us wink so 
often ? I have been watching your eyes, and I saw yQU 
wink a great many times. And, now that I think of it, 
I find that I am winking almost all the time, and I 
cannot help it. 

Mother. — Did you ever see your grandfather, or 
your Cousin George, wipe their spectacles, before they 
put them on ? 

Child. — Oh yes, mother, they wipe them very often; 
and Cousin George is very particular to wipe his with a 



CONVERSATION ON THE EYE. 



DO 



very nice piece of soft leather, which he carries in his 
pocket. 

A 




Mother. — Well, Caroline, you know that they wipe 
ttye glasses of their spectacles to get off the fine dust 
which is constantly floating about in the air, and other 
things also, which sometimes get on the glasses, and 
which, if suffered to remain, would prevent their seeing 
well through the glasses. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; but what has that to do 
with winking? 

Mother. — I am about to tell you, my child. You 
recollect that I told you that the eye is very delicate, 



56 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



and that it is shaped in the inside like the glasses of 
spectacles. Now, the fine dust and other things that 
are in the air will always be getting in the eyes, and 
the eyes are constantly wiping themselves, to rid them- 
selves of the smallest particle that may get on them. 

Child. — The eyes wiping themselves, mother ! How 
can that be,motherJ 

Mother. — Why, my de3X^tmpi2ig- anything is noth- 
ing more than causing some soft substance to pass over 
it; and when we wink, the eye-lid, which is much 
softer than the softest leather or the finest silk, merely 
passes over the eye, and wipes off anything which may 
have rested on it, and then immediately passes back 
again, and leaves the eye open. There is another use 
in winking, which you will not be able to understand at 
present, and which I must omit until you are a little 
older. But I have told you enough to show you the 
wisdom of God, in providing so many ways to protect 
this delicate member from harm. He has placed beau- 
tiful eye-brows and eye-lashes over it, and given it the 
faculty of shutting itself, to protect itself from harm 
while asleep, or when anything suddenly approaches it. 

Child. — O, dear mother, how wise and good must 
that great God be, whom we worship daily. I see a 
great many beautiful things around me, which you 



CONVERSATION ON THE EYE. 57 

have told me God has made ; but now I begin to see 
that there are many things about my own body, which 
show me how kind and gracious he is to me, and how 
much he has done for me, to make me comfortable and 
happy. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear child; and now that you 
understand some things which you did not know 
before, which show you that he has taken such good 
care of you, I hope that whenever anything occurs 
that you do not comprehend, you will believe that it 
happens by God's direction, and is designed for your 
good ; and that you will, at some time or other, either 
in this world or the next, know why and how it hap- 
pens, and praise God for all his goodness to you, and 
to your fellow-creatures. 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION FOURTH. 

Can you tell, by looking at them, whether a person's eyes are too 
round or too flat? 

Of how many parts is the eye composed ? 

What are some of these parts shaped like ? 

What are eye-lashes? 

What are eye-brows ? 

Of what use are the eye-lashes and eye-brows ? 

Of what use are the eve-lashes in the sunshine ? 



58 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

What did the Carthaginians do to the Roman general, Regulus ? 

What is meant by a somnambulist? 

What is wuUejgg? 

What is the use of winking ? 

Why do they who wear spectacles frequently wipe them ? 

How is the eye shaped in the inside ? 

What is meant by wipi?ig a thing ? 

How can the eyes wipe themselves ? 

How has God provided for the protection of the eye ? 






■r 









1 



CONVERSATION" ON LIGHT. 



59 




CONVERSATION V. 

LIGHT. 

Child. — Mother. I have not yet quite done asking 
hard questions. I have been thinking a great deal 
about what you said to me about colors. Now I have 
thought of something, which I fear is too hard even for 
you to answer. While I was dressing, this morning, 
and looking in the glass. I wondered why I could not see 
myself in th° glass in the windows. The looking-glass, 
on the bureau, looks and feels very much like the glass 
in the windows : but when I looked at the windows. I 
could not see myself at all. Can you tell me. dear 
mother ? 



60 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — Yes, Caroline, your question is not a very- 
hard one for me to answer ; but it is, perhaps, harder for 
you to understand, when I attempt to explain it, than 
anything else which you have asked me. Now, if you 
will attend to what I say, I will try to make it plain to 
you. 

You recollect that when you threw the ball against 
the door, and it came back toward you, and the 
water against my handkerchief, and it remained in 
the handkerchief, I told you that the colors of light do 
just the same. When light falls on any object, part 
of it goes off from the object, and is said to be reflected, 
and part remains in the object, and is said to be ab- 
solved. 

Child. — Yes, mother, and you told me that the 
colors which are sent back, or are reflected, are the 
colors which the objects appear to be of; and that 
although light throws seven different colors on every- 
thing, yet none of those colors are seen which are 
absorbed. 

Mother. — Well, my dear, you must recollect this. 
Now, suppose that some objects, instead of reflecting or 
absorbing the colors, should let them all pass through 
them, — of what color would those objects be? 

Child. — Why, mother, they would have no color at 






CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 



61 



all. They could not be black, because they do not 
absorb the colors; and they could not appear red, nor 
blue, nor green, nor any of those pretty colors, because 
they do not reflect them. 

Mother. — You are right, Caroline; and if the light 
passes through them, we can also see the light coming 
through from the objects on the other side. Thus, 
when you look at the glass in the window, you see the 
light coming from the objects outside of the window. 

Child. — Did you say, mother, that we can see the 
light coming from the objects on the outside of the win- 
dow ? I thought that light comes only from the sun, or 
the moon, or a lamp, or from fire. 




Mother. — Yes, my dear, I did say " the light com- 
ing from the objects outside of the window," for if light 



62 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

did not come from those objects, you could not see them 
at all. 

Child. — Why, mother, if father were out doors, and 
I were looking through the window at him, would he 
send light in through the window to me ? 

Mother. — You shall answer that question yourself, 
my dear. Suppose your father had on a beautiful pur- 
ple robe, such as kings sometimes wear, could you see 
the robe when looking at him ? 

Child. — Oh, yes, mother! certainly, I could. 

Mother. — Can you tell me why the robe would 
appear to be of a purple color, my dear ? 

Child. — Yes, mother! you told me, the other day, 
that objects which reflect the red and the blue colors 
of light would appear to be of a purple color. 

Mother. — Well, my dear; then some of the red and 
the blue colors of light would come from the robe ; or, 
in other words, the robe would send forth some of tli^ 
light, would it not ? 

Child. — Yes, mother. 

Mother. — Whatever your father had on would also 
send back, or reflect, its own color also. Your father's 
face, and hands, and coat, and, in fact, his whole figure, 
would send back, or reflect, his exact appearance, would 
it not ? 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 



63 



Child. — Yes, dear mother; but what would make 
the light from father come in through the window to 
me? 

Mother. — Now, my child, you are beginning to 
question me about things which I fear you will not 
understand ; but I will try to make it plain. Listen to 
me. When the lamps are lighted and placed on the 
centre-table, at night, to what part of the room does 
the light which they give go ? 




Child. — Why, mother, it goes to every part of the 
room, except the dark corners, and under the table, and 
behind the other furniture. 

Mother. — But suppose the table and other furniture 
were of pure white glass, — would not the light pass 
through them, and go to every part of the room ? 



64 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — Why, yes, mother, it would; and I suppose 
there would then be no dark corners, as the light 
would get into them all. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear! You see, then, that light 
goes in every direction from the lamp ; and it does so 
from everything else. Everything which you see is 
seen by means of the colors which it reflects, or absorbs; 



and wherever 



you may 



be, the colors which are 



reflected must come towards you, or you will not see 
them. Now, when you look through the window and 
see your father on the outside, the light which falls on 
him is thrown back, or reflected, from him in every 
direction ; and it is this which enables you to see him 
at all. 

Child. — But, mother, how is it that I can see myself 
in the looking-glass ? I know why I cannot see myself 
in the window-glass; it is because all the light passes 
through it. None of it stops in the glass, or is reflected 
back from it. 

Mother. — There are some things that absorb all 
the light — 

Child. — O, yes, mother, and then they appear all 
black. 

Mother. — Yes: and there are others which reflect 
some of the light or the colors, and absorb the others. 



II 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 65 

Child. — Yes, mother, and they appear of the colors 
which they reflect. 

Mother. — And there are some things, like glass and 
water, for instance, which let all the light pass through 
them. 

Child. — Yes, mother, and then we can see other 
things through them. 

Mother. — Now, Caroline, I must tell you, that there 
are some things that reflect all, or most all, of the light 
which falls upon them, and absorb little or none. 
When we look at them, we cannot see them, — we only 
see the light and the colors which they reflect. 

Child. — Oh! now I understand, mother, why I can 
see myself, and other things, in the glass. I do not see 
the glass, but only the colors which fall from other 
things on the glass, and are reflected from it. The 
light that comes from me falls on the glass, and is 
reflected back to me, and I see myself in the glass. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear; but you must not forget 
that I have not yet answered your question — Why 
you can see yourself in the glass on the bureau, and not 
in the glass on the window ? 

Child. — I was just going to ask you that question 
again, mother ; for although I understand why I cannot 
see myself in the window-glass, I do not understand 



66 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

why the light will not pass through the glass on the 
bureau. 

Mother. — It will, my child, and does; and you see in 
the glass on the bureau the light that comes from the 
other side. 

Child. — Why, mother, I cannot see through the 
looking-glass; and besides, if I did, I see myself there 
while I am standing before the glass, and on this side 
of it, not on the other. 

Mother. — And are you quite sure, my dear, that 
you know what is on the other side of the glass ? 

Child. — Why, yes, mother; there is nothing there 
except a thin board for the back of the glass, and the 
wall behind the board. 

Mother. — And what prevents your seeing the thin 
board which forms the back of the glass ? Is there not 
something else on the back of the glass itself? Look 
here ; here is a small piece of a broken looking-glass. 
See what this is. 

Child. — It looks, mother, like lead; or like silver that 
is not bright. 

Mother. — And now I have scratched a little of it, 
with my scissors, from off the glass. Look, now, at the 
other side of the glass, and tell me what you can see. 

Child. — Why, mother, I can see directly through 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 67 

thSt part of the glass where you have scraped off that 
dull-looking stuff. 

Mother. — Then it is what you call "that dull- 
looking stuff" that prevents the light from passing 
through the glass ? 

Child. — Yes, mother; but how is it that that dull- 
looking stuff looks so bright when I look at it through 
the glass l On the back it looks rough and dull, and 
on the front it looks bright and smooth. 

Mother. — Have you never seen, my child, when 
Alice has baked her little cakes in cups, that the cakes 
look dull and rough on the top, but the sides and bot- 
tom, which were formed against the smooth sides and 
bottom of the cup, were smooth and bright, and some- 
times shine like glass 1 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; and this is always the case 
when she rubs a little butter on the sides of the cups. 

Mohher. — Very well; and the sides of the cups 
feel smoother when the butter is rubbed on them, do 
they not ? 

Child. — Yes, mother, but when I asked Alice why 
she put the butter on the cups, she told me it was to 
make the cakes slip out easily after they were baked, 
and prevent their sticking to the cups. 

Mother. — Precisely so, my dear. Now, you said 



6S JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

that the cakes always appear to shine most, and are 
smoothest, when the butter is rubbed on the cups. But 
the cups themselves, although very smooth, are by no 
means so smooth as glass. If, then, the cakes formed 
in the cups become so smooth at the sides, where they 
are pressed against the smooth sides of the cup, I sup- 
pose that you can tell the reason why this " dull- 
looking stuff" which is spread on the side of the smooth 
glass looks so bright and smooth through the glass 7 

Child. — Yes, mother, but I do not understand why 
the light does not pass through it. 

Mother. — The light will not pass through it, my 
dear, because it is a metal, or rather a mixture of two 
metals ; and light cannot pass through any metal. It 
is the bright and smooth metal, on the back of the glass, 
that reflects the light, and not the glass itself. 

Child. — Why, then, mother, is the glass put over the 
metal at all, if it is the metal which reflects the light, 
and not the glass? 

Mother. — The glass is put over the metal for two 
reasons : first, to give the metal a smooth surface, so 
that it may reflect the light well; and, secondly, to 
prevent the metal from growing dull by exposure to 
the air. You know that Alice is frequently employed 
in scouring and polishing her tin cooking utensils, and 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 



69 



her brass kettles, and the brass handles of the kitchen 
doors, and the knives, and the silver forks and spoons: 
and in a few days she has to scour or polish them 
again, because, by use. and by exposure to the air. 
they lose their brightness, and look dull. So it would 
be with the metal on the back of the looking-glass, 
if it were not covered by the glass. The glass pro- 
tects it from the dust and the ah. and keeps it smooth 
and bright. You see. on the other side, the metal 
looks, as you said, quite rough and dull. 

Child. — Yes, mother, but do all smooth and bright 
things reflect the light, like the metal behind the glass? 

Mother. — Before I answer that question, my dear. 
I must make you understand the difference between 
smooth and soft. Draw your hand over the velvet on 
my bonnet. 

Child. — How very soft and smooth it feels, mother ! 

Mother. — No, my dear, not smooth ; but it is, as you 
say, very soft. Now draw your hand over the surface 
of that marble slab on the centre-table. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother, that is very smooth, but 
not soft : is it not, mother I 

Mother. — Yes. my dear; and now I hope you will 
understand me when I say that there is a great differ- 
ence between soft and smooth. One thins: may be 






70 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

smooth but not soft, like the marble slab; and another 
may be soft but not smooth, like the velvet. Smooth 
means even on the surface ; soft implies yielding to the 
slightest pressure. Now, if you draw your hand over 
the marble slab backwards and forwards several times, 
you will find that it feels smooth, whichever way you 
move your hand. This shows that it is smooth. But 
if you do the same to the velvet, or on puss's back, 
you will find that both feel soft, but neither of them are 
smooth; for when you carry your hand backwards, they 
both feel a little rough. Now, all things which have a 
smooth surface reflect the light well ; and the smoother 
they are, the more light they appear to reflect. 

Child. — And are they not brighter, too, mother? 

Mother. — What do you mean by bright, my dear ? 

Child. — Why, do not you know, mother, what bright 
means ? Why, it means shining, or full of light, reflect- 
ing much light. 

Mother. — And what did I just tell you reflects most 
light; that is, appears most full of light,* and shining? 

Child. — You said, mother, that the smoother any- 
thing is, the more light it appears to reflect. 

Mother. — Then the smoother anything is, the bright- 
er it must appear also. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; and the reason that the 



N light. 71 

marble slab appears so bright is becai> so smooth, 1 

is it nc 

Mother. — Yes. my dear. When the slab i 
it was first sawed out of a piece of solid marble, and 
1 rough and dull, like any other stone : but when 
it was smoothed, it then began to reflect more light ; 
and when it was polished, that is, made more smooth, 
it looked bright, because it reflected still more light. 

old. — But. mother. I have seen a great many j 
_ - which appear bright, but I am sure they are not 
smooth. Alice the cook, the other day. accidentally 
broke a piece of iron out of the grate, and the i 
the broken part looked quite bright, while all the rest 

it looked very black. I felt of the broken edge, and 
I it :rp and rough. It was not smooth, mother. 

but it was quite br:_ 

Mother. — You say. Caroline, that it v. -nooth. 

Perhaps the whole surface was not so. but there must 
have been small places on the surface which were 
smooth, and perhaps a great many of them: and tl 
all reflecting the light, made the whole s look 

bright. 

Child. — You said, mother, that the light from 
lamp, and from even-thing else, goes in a straight I 
in every dir- Now, if this is the c .at is the 



72 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



reason that I cannot always see myself, and the floor, 
and all the chairs and tables, and other things, all at 
once, in the looking-glass? You say that the light 
from all these things strikes through the glass, on the 
bright surface of the metal behind the glass, and is 
thrown back again, or reflected, by the metal. If this 
is true, what is the reason that I cannot always see 
myself, and the other things too, in the glass? You 
know, mother, I cannot see myself in the glass here 
where I stand ; but I must go and stand before it, if I 
want to see myself. 

Mother. — That is very true, my dear, and I expected 
that you would ask that question. But before I answer 
it I must make you take your little ball, and practice a 
little with that. 

Child. — My little ball, mother ! that is very strange. 
How can my little ball teach me anything about a 
looking-glass ? 

Mother. — It may appear very strange, my child, 
until you understand that when light strikes against 
anything which will reflect it, it acts just as if every 
particle of it were a little ball ; and bounds off, or is 
reflected, just as a little ball bounds off when thrown 
against the wall, or the ceiling, or the door, or the 
floor. 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 



73 



Child. — How very wonderful, dear mother ! pray 
explain it to me. 

Mother. — Well, Caroline, take your little ball, and 
stand directly before the door, and throw it as straight 
as you can, directly at the door, and near the middle, 
and tell which way it bounds back from the door. 

Child. — Why, mother, it comes directly back, almost 
into my hand. 

Mother. — Now, my dear, stand a little to the right, 
and throw it again, as near as you can, at the same 
spot, on the door, and tell me then which way it goes. 

Child. — It has gone towards the other side of the 
room, mother. 

Mother. — Take the ball once more, Caroline, and 
stand as far to the left of the door as you now are to 
the right, and throw the ball again at the same spot 
on the door, and then tell me which way the ball 
rebounds. 

Child. — Why, mother, it has gone now toward the 
side where I was before, on the right side of the door. 
But do tell me, mother, what this has to do with the 
looking-glass. 

Mother. — Do you not recollect, my dear, that I told 
you that the light goes against anything which reflects 
it, precisely as if it were all made of little balls. Now, 



71 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

just for a moment, suppose the door to be a looking- 
glass, and that you were a lamp, and that the little ball 
which you threw against the door was a very small 
portion of light. Can you not tell me which way the 
light would go from the looking-glass ? 

Child. — Oh, yes, mother; now I see through it all. 
When I stand directly before the glass, the light which 
goes from me to the glass comes right back to me 
from the glass ; and when I stand to the right of the 
glass, the light does not return --to me, but goes off to 
the left of the glass; and when I stand to the left, the 
light goes off to the right. Is it not so, mother ? 

Mother. — Yes, my dear; and now let us both go 
and stand directly before the looking-glass a moment, 
in order that you may see and understand this more 
clearly. 

Now we are directly before it, we can both see our- 
selves, as you observe. 

Child. — Yes, mother; but look — see — in the glass 
your thimble appears to be on your left hand ; and my 
ball, too, which I have got in my right hand, appears, 
in the glass, to be in my left hand ; and I, who am on 
your left side, appear, in the glass, to be standing on 
your right. What is the reason of that, mother ? 

Mother. — I think you will be able to tell me your- 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 



self presently, my dear. But be patient, and listen to 
me. Now do you stand a little to the right of the 
glass, and 1 will stand at the same distance to the left. 




Let us be exact: and in order thai we maybe exact, 

first go to my work-box and bring me that little yard 
measure, which rolls up in the ivory case, and then we 
will measure our distance from the front of the glass. 

There, here is the front of the glass, and I am going 
to measure on the floor two yards each side of the front 
of the glass; and you shall stand two yards to the right, 
and 1 will stand two yards to the left, and then let 
us look into the glass. 



76 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — Why, mother, I cannot see myself now; but 
I can see you. 

Mother. — And I, my child, cannot see myself; but 
I can see you. Now, stand still where you are, while I 
measure a yard more to the left, and take my stand 
there. 

Child. — I cannot see you now, mother, in the 
glass. 

Mother. — No, my dear; neither can I see you, be- 
cause I am a yard further to the left than you are 
toward the right. But take the measure and move 
another yard towards the right. 

Child. — Oh, now I can see you again, mother. 

Mother. — Very well; because now you and I 
are both at the same distance from the front of the 
glass. You are three yards to the right, and I am 
three yards to the left, of the front of the glass ; and 
wherever you stand, to the right or the left of the 
glass, you see in the glass those things only which are 
just so far on the other side. Now, you see, my dear, 
that the light acts just as the ball did when you threw 
it against the door. When you stood in front of the 
door, and threw the ball at the middle of the door, the 
ball returned to you in front ; but when you stood at 
the right of the door, the ball bounded off to the; left; 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 77 

and when you stood on the left, the ball bounded off to 
the right. 

Child. — O yes, dear mother; how surprising it is! 
But why did your thimble, mother, appear in the glass 
to be on your left-hand finger ? 

Mother. — Let me first ask you, Caroline, whether 
you did not perceive any other singular appearance of 
the same kind, when you were looking in the glass ? 

Child. — No, mother, I did not. 

Mother. — The glass is on the easterly side of the 
room ; and when you were looking at it, toward which 
side of the room were you facing? 

Child. — Why, mother, I was looking, of course, at 
the easterly side, where the glass is, and where the east 
window is, where the sun comes so beautifully, early 
in the morning. 

Mother. — And which way was the picture of your- 
self, in the glass, facing? 

Child. — Why, mother, it was facing the east win- 
dow, too. 

Mother. — Are you sure? Now go to the glass 
again, and see. 

Child. — Why, mother, how strange! while I am 
facing the east window, my picture in the glass seems 
to be facing the west window. 



78 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Mother. — And now, my dear, hold up your right 
hand, and tell me which hand your image in the glass 
holds up. 

Child. — Dear mother, how very singular ! the image 
in the glass is holding up its left hand. It will not do 
anything exactly as I do it. 

Mother. — And can you not see the reason, my 
child ? 

Child. — I cannot say, mother, that I do, very dis- 
tinctly. 

Mother. — Think what the ball which you threw 
against the door, did. 

Child. — O, yes, mother! the ball rebounded in a 
direction opposite to that in which I sent it ; and you 
told me that light goes just like the ball. When I sent 
the ball to the door, it rebounded from the door ; and 
when I sent it to the right, it rebounded to the left; 
and when I sent it to the left, it rebounded towards the 
right. Now. if, as you say, it is just so with the light, 
that which comes from the left must go to the right, 
and that which comes from the right must go to the 
left; and in the looking-glass my right hand must 
appear to be the left, and the left hand must appear to 
be the right. Is it not so, mother? 

Mother. — Yes, it is. 



CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 



Child. — O how strange, dear mother! — and if I had a 
scar on my right cheek, the looking-glass would make 
it appear on my left. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear; the looking-glass reverses 
everything. Now, Caroline, if you were standing on a 
high table in front of the looking-glass, and looking 
down on the looking-glass, can you tell how your image 
on the glass would appear ? 

Child. — Why, mother, it would appear to be looking 
up at me, would it not ? 

Mother. — Certainly, it would; and now I am going 
to tell you something which is still more strange, and 
that is, that you can see your whole figure, from head 
to foot, in a glass which is only half as tall as you are. 

Child. — Do tell me, mother, how that can be? 

Mother. — I told you, some time ago, my dear, that 
there are some things too difficult for you to understand 
at present; and this is one of them. I will only tell you 
now the fact as I have mentioned it, ai}d that must sat- 
isfy you for the present. When you are older, you will 
understand it more easily, and will see that the same 
cause which makes your right hand appear to be the 
left, and the left to be the right, enables you to see your 
whole self in a glass of only half your length. There 
are a great many other things about light, and about 






80 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

looking-glasses, which are equally interesting with 
what I have told you; but I think it better to wait 
until you are older, before I attempt to explain them. 
In the mean time, I would have you think how great a 
blessing light is, and how thankful we should be to our 
good Creator " for all the blessings of the light." 

4, 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION FIFTH. 

What becomes of the light which falls on any object? 

When is the light said to be reflected ? 

When is the light said to be absorbed ? 

Of what color do all objects appear to be ? 

How many different colors does light throw on every object ? 

Of what color will those substances be, which cause all the light 
that falls on them to go through them ? 

W r hen you look through a glass window, what do you see ? 

Why do some objects appear of a purple color ? 

How is it that we are enabled to see objects through the glass in 
the window ? 

When the lamps are lighted at night, to what part of the room does 
the light go ? 

Suppose all the objects in the room were transparent, or were 
made of pure white glass, would there then be any dark corners in 
the room ? 

How is everything seen ? 

How do all objects appear that absorb all the light that falls on 
them? 






CONVERSATION ON LIGHT. 81 

What can you see in a looking-glass ? 

What is on the back of a looking-glass ? 

Why will not the light pass through the back of a looking-glass ? 

What reflects the light from a looking-glass ? 

Why is glass put over the metal at the back of a looking-glass ? 

Do all smooth and bright things reflect light like a looking-glass? 

What is the difference between soft and smooth ? 

What does bright mean ? 

In what direction does light always move ? 

When light strikes against a substance that reflects it, how does it 
act? 

When you stand directly before a looking-glass, where does it throw 
your reflected image ? Where, when you stand at the right side ? 
Where, when you stand at the left side ? 

Does the looking-glass make all things appear as they are ? 

When you see a person in a looking-glass, can that person see 
you, also, if he looks in the glass? 

How large must a looking-glass be, to enable you to see your whole 
figure? 



S2 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 




CONVERSATION VI. 

FIRE. 

Child. — Mother dear, you told me, the other day, 
that nobody knows what light is, except the Great Ore- 
tor. Now, can you tell me what fire is ? 

Mother. — I fear, my child, that you have asked 
another question which I cannot directly answer. 
What fire is, is known only by its effects. 

Child. — And what are its effects, mother? 

Mother. — Some of its effects are as well known to 



CONVERSATION ON FIRE. S3 

you, my dear, as they are to me ; and I shall, in the 
first place, call to your recollection what you yourself 
know about fire, before I attempt to give you any fur- 
ther information in relation to it. 

Child. — Why, mother, I am sure I dcrmi6lTkfrow 
what fire is. 

Mother. — No, my dear, I know that you do not 
know what fire is; neither do I, nor does any one, 
except the Great Creator himself. This is one of his 
secrets, which, in his wisdom, he reserves for himself. 
But you certainly know some of the effects of fire. For 
instance, you know that when you have been out into 
the cold, you wish, on your return, to go to the fire. 
Now, can you tell me what you go to the fire for? 

Child. — Why, certainly, mother; I go to the fire to 
warm myself. 

Mother. — And how does the fire warm you, my 
dear ? 

Child. — Why, it sends out its heat, mother; and I 
hold out my hands to it, and feel the heat. 

Mother. — Very well ; and where does the heat come 
from ? 

Child. — Why, the heat comes from the fire, mother. 

Mother. — Then, my dear, you know at least one of 
the effects of fire. It produces, or rather sends out, heat. 



84 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — But does not the fire make the heat, mo- 
ther? 

Mother. — If you had a little bird, or a mouse, 
in a cage, and should open the door and let it out, 
should you say that you made the little bird or the 
mouse ? 

Child. — Say that I made them, mother? — why, no; 
certainly not. I ohly let them go free. God made 
them. You told me?; that. God made all things. 

Mother. — Neither did the fire make the heat. It 
only made it free, somewhat in the same manner that 
you would make, the bird or the mouse free, by opening 
the door of the cage. 

Child. — Why, ^mother, is heat kept in cages, like 
birds or mice ? 

Mother. — No, my dear, not exactly in cages, like 
birds and mice; but a great deal closer, in a different 
kind of cage. 

Child. — Why, mother, what sort of a cage can heat 
be kept in ? 

Mother. — I must answer your question, Caroline, 
by asking you another. When Alice makes her fire in 
the kitchen, how does she make it ? 

Child. — She takes some wood, or some coal, and puts 
under it some pine wood, which she calls kindling, and 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



85 



some shavings, and then takes a match and sets the 
shavings on fire, and very soon the fire is made. 

Mother. — But does she not first do something to the 
match ? 




Child. — O, yes; I forgot to say that she lights the 
match first, and then sets fire to the shavings with the 
lighted match. 

Mother. — But how does she light the match, my 
dear ? 

Child. — Why, mother, have you never seen her? 
She rubs one end of the match on the box, where there 



•= -71 

JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

is a little piece of sand-paper, and that sets the match 
on fire. 

Mother. — Is there any fire in the sand-paper, my 
dear ? 

Child. — Why, no, mother; certainly not. 

Mother. — Is there any fire in the match, before she 
lighted it ? 

Child. — Why, no, mother; if there had been, she 
would have had no need to light it. 

Mother. — You see, then, that fire came when she 
rubbed the |natch against the sand-paper, and that the 
fire was not in the sand-paper, nor in the match. 

Child. — Yes, mother, but I did not see where it 
came from. 

Mother. — I am going to explain that to you, my 
child. Did you ever see a person rub his hands together, 
when he was cold. 

Child. — O yes, mother, a great many times. I have 
seen father come in from the cold and rub his hands 
together, and afterwards hold them to the fire and rub 
them again, and then they get warm. 

Mother. — And now. Caroline, take your hand and rub 
it quickly backwards and forwards, over that woollen 
table-cloth, on the table in the corner of the room, and 
tell me whether that will make your hand warm. 



CONVERSATION ON FIRE. 



Child. — Q, yes, dear mother; I feel it grow warmer 
the faster I rub it. 

Mother. — Here are two small pieces of wood. 
Touch them to your cheek, and tell me whether they 
feel warm now. 

Child. — They do not feel warm, nor cold, mo- 
ther. 

Mother. — Now rub them together quickly a little 
while, and then touch them to your cheek. 

Child. — O dear, mother! they are 
so hot that they almost burnt my 
cheek. 

Mother. — Yes, Caroline ; and do 
you not recollect, when you read 
Robinson Crusoe, that his man Fri- 
day made a fire by rubbing two 
pieces of wood together. 

Child. — O, yes, dear mother; and I have 'often won- 
dered why Alice could not light her fire and the lamp 
in the same manner, without those matches, which 
have so offensive a smell. 

Mother. — It is very hard work, my dear, to obtain 
fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together ; and it 
would take too long a time to do it. The two pieces 
of wood would grow warm by a very little rubbing ; 




ss 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



but in order to make them take fire, they must be 
rubbed together a great while. 

Child. — But, mother, if it takes so long a time to get 
fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together, why can 
Alice set the match on fire so easily by rubbing it once 
on the sand-paper? 

Mother. — That is what I am about to explain to 
you, my dear. Here, take this piece of paper and hold 
it up to the lamp. 

Child. — It has taken fire, mother. 

£-. Mother. — Now take this piece 

of pine wood, and hold that up to 
the lamp in the same manner, and 
see whether that will take fire too. 
Child. — Yes, mother, it has 
taken fire; but I had to hold it 
up to the lamp much longer than 
I did the paper. 
Mother. — Now take this piece of hard wood, and do 
the same with that. 

Child. — The hard wood takes longer still to catch 
fire, mother. 

Mother. — Very well ; and now I am going to 
make the hard wood take fire more quickly than the 
paper did. 




CONVERSATION ON FIRE. 



89 



Child. — Dear mother, how can you do it? 

Mother. — 1 am now going to show you. Here 
is a small phial, which contains something that looks 
like water. It is spirits of turpentine. I shall dip the 
point of the piece of hard wood into the phial, and take 
up a little of the spirits of turpentine. Now, my dear, 
touch the point of the hard wood with the turpentine 
on it to the flame. 

Child. — Why, mother, it caught fire as soon as I 
touched the flame with it ! 

Mother. — Yes, my dear; and you now see that 
some things, like the spirits of turpentine and the paper, 
take fire very readily, and others take fire with more 
difficulty. 

Child. — Yes, mother; but when Alice drew the 
match across the sand-paper, there was no flame nor 
fire to touch it to. How, then, could it take fire 7 

Mother. — Hold this piece of paper up to the blaze 
of the lamp, my dear, but be careful not to touch the 
fire or flame of the lamp ; only hold it close to the blaze. 

Child. — Why, mother, it has taken fire ! 

Mother.— You see, then, that a thing will some- 
times take fire when it does not touch the fire. 

Child. — Yes, mother; but I do not understand 
where the fire comes from. 



90 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — The fire comes from the heat, my dear. 
Now, you know that heat is produced by rubbing two 
things together ; and that some things, like the spirits 
of turpentine, take fire very easily, or with very little 
heat; and others, like the hard wood, require to be 
heated some time; or, in other words, require much 
heat, to make them take fire, or to burn. Some things 
require only as much heat to make them take fire as can 
be obtained by rubbing them together very quickly, like 
the wood which Robinson Crusoe's man Friday used. 

Child. — But, mother, the match is made of wood; 
why does that take fire so easily ? 

Mother. — It is true, Caroline, that the match is 
made of wood ; but it has something at the end of it, 
which takes fire much more easily than the spirits of 
turpentine. Indeed, so easily does it take fire, that it 
requires only so much heat to set it on fire as is obtained 
by drawing the match once across the sand-paper. 

Child. — But, mother, matches do not always take 
fire. I have seen Alice rub several across the sand- 
paper, before she can set one on fire. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, and the reason of this is, 
that the matches are not all well made. Now, if I 
should take several pieces of hard wood and tie them 
together, and dip their ends into the spirits of turpen- 



CONVERSATION ON FIRE. 91 

tine, what would happen if the ends of some of the 
pieces did not touch the spirits of turpentine, because I 
had not tied them together with their points all even? 

Child. — Why, mother, some of them would take fire 
easily, because the points had the spirits of turpentine 
on them ; while those which did not touch the spirits 
could not be lighted so easily. 

Mother. — So it is, my dear, with the matches.. They 
are all dipped into the substance which takes fire so 
easily ; but some of the ends do not reach the substance, 
and do not become coated Avith it, and therefore they 
will not light more easily than the pine wood of which 
they are made. 

Child.— Well, mother, I understand, now, how the 
match is set on fire. It is rubbed on the sand-paper, 
and that produces heat, and the heat sets the match on 
fire. But I always thought that fire makes heat, not 
that heat makes fire. 

Mother. — Heat does not always make fire ; for if it 
did, everything would be on fire. 

Child.— Everything on fire, mother! why, what do 
you mean 7 

Mother. — I mean, Caroline, that everything contains 
heat. 

Child. — Everything contains heat, mother, did you 



92 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



say? Why, then, is not everything warm? Some 
things, mother, are very cold; as ice, and snow, and 
that marble slab. 

Mother. — Yes, my child, everything contains heat, 
as I shall presently show you. When Alice goes to 
make a fire in a cold day, she does not carry the heat 
with her, and put it into the fire, nor into the wood, nor 
the coal, does she? 

Child. — Why, no, to be sure not, mother. 

Mother. — And the heat that comes from the fire, 
after it is made, does not come in at the windows nor 
down the chimney, does it ? 

Child. — Why, no, mother; it feels cold at the win- 
dows, and cold air comes down the chimney. 

Mother. — But, after the fire is made, we feel much 
heat coming from the fire, do we not ? 

Child. — Why, yes, mother; that is what the fire is 
made for. We feel cold, and we want a fire to make 
us warm ; and when the fire is made, it sends out heat, 
and makes us warm. 

Mother. — Well, now, where can the heat come 
from? You know what fire is made from, do you 
not? 

Child. — Certainly, mother; the fire is made of wood, 
or of coal. 



CONVERSATION ON FIRE. 93 

Mother. — But is the wood or the coal warm before 
the fire is made ? 

Child. — No, mother, the wood and the coal come 
from the cold wood-house, or the cellar, and they are 
both very cold. 

Mother. — And yet the wood and the coal become 
very hot when they are on fire. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother, so hot that we cannot touch 
them with our hands, and we have to take the shovel 
or the tongs to move them. 

Mother. — And do they burn the shovel and the 
tongs, my dear ? 

Child. — Why, no, mother ; if they did, the shovel and 
tongs would be of little use in stirring the fire. 

Mother. — Can you think of any reason why they 
do not burn the shovel and the tongs ? 

Child. — You told me, mother, that some things 
require a very little heat to set them on fire, and that 
other things require a great deal. I suppose that there 
was not heat enough to set them on fire ; and if there 
had been, they would not burn, because they are made 
of iron. 

Mother. — You are partly right, my dear, and partly 
wrong. They would not burn, because there was not 
heat enough in the fire to burn them. But there are 



94 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

very few things, and in fact it may be doubted whether 
there is anything, which will not burn, when sufficient 
heat is applied. But let us return to the fire: you say 
the heat does not come from the windows nor from the 
chimney, and you say, also, that the wood and the 
coal are both cold. Now, where can the heat come 
from? 

Child. — lam sure I cannot tell, mother; will you 
please to tell me ? 

Mother. — You recollect that I told you that the 
rubbing of the match on the sand-paper produces a 
little heat, which caused the match to burn. The 
match was then applied to the shavings, and, as it was 
burning, gave out heat enough jto set the shavings on 
fire ; the shavings produced hSafeenough to set the pine 
wood, or kindling, on fire, ahd**thgn the pine wood, or 
kindling, produced more heat, and set the wood and 
coal on fire. Now, there was nothing to produce the 
heat but the match, the shavings, the wood, and the 
coal ; and the heat must have been in them. The fire 
only served to set it free, and let it come out of the 
match, the wood, and the coal. 

Child. — But, mother, how did the heat get into the 
wood and the coal? 

Mother. — It is not known, my dear, how the heat 



CONVERSATION ON FIRE. 



95 



got into the wood and coal, any more than how the 
fruit gets on to a tree. We say that it grows on the 
tree ; but what growing is, and how it is caused, are 
among the secrets of God. 

Child. — If the heat is in the wood and the coal, 
mother, why do we not feel it in them ? They both 
feel cold, I cannot perceive any heat in them. 

Mother. — The heat is in the wood and the coal, 
although you do not see it. Do you see any smoke in 
the wood and the coal ? 

Child. — No, mother, I do not. 




Mother. — Did you never see a stick of wood fall on 
the hearth from the kitchen fire, and see the smoke 
coming from it] 



90 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Child, — Oh yes, mother, very often; and the smoke 
goes all over the room, and into my eyes, and makes 
the tears come into my eyes v 

Mother.^ — And can you see the smoke in the wood 
before the wood is put on the fire ? 

Child. — No, mother, I am sure I cannot, 

Mother ; — But you are sure that the smoke comes 
from the wood, are you not ^ 

Child. — Oh yes, mother, I see it coming right out of 
the wood? 

Mother. — Well then, I suppose you know that 
if there is something in the wood and coal, which you 
call smoke, although you cannot see it until it comes 
out, you can easily conceive how another thing, which 
we call heat, can be in the wood and coal, which we 
cannot perceive until it is made to come out. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; how wonderful it is ! 

Mother, — Yes, Caroline, all the works of God are 
wonderful ; and what is very surprising is, that many 
of his most wonderful works are so common, so con- 
tinually before our eyes, that we do not deem them 
wonderful until we have been made to think much 
about them, by talking about them, as you and I have 
talked about the rain, and the clouds, and light, and its 
colors. 



CONVERSATION ON FIRE. 



97 



Child. — I have been thinking, mother, about Alice 
and the fire. You told me that the fire did not make 
the heat, any more than I make the little mouse or the 
bird when I open the cage door and let them out. I 
see now how it is. Alice brings the wood and the coal 
into the kitchen fireplace, and the match lets the heat 
out of the shavings, and the shavings let it out of the 
wood and the coal, until we get heat enough to make 
us warm^ 

Mother. — Yes, my dear; and there is no more heat 
in the room after the fire is made than there was before, 
— only, before the fire was made the heat was hid, and 
we could not perceive it ; but when the fire is made, it 
makes the heat come out, and makes it free, just as I 
make the little bird free by opening his cage door. 



QUESTIONS £0 CONVERSATION SIXTH. 

How do we know what fire is ? 

What does the fire send out ? 

Does the fire make the heat which it sends out ? 

What does the fire do to the heat ? 

How is a fire made ? 

How is a match lighted ? 

Is there any fire in the match, or in the sand-paper ? 

Why does a person rub his hands when he is cold ? 



9S 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



When two pieces of wood are rubbed together quickly, what effect 
is produced ? 

How did Robinson Crusoe's man Friday make a fire,? 

Why is not fire generally made by rubbing pieces of wood together ? 

How can you make hard wood take fire easily ? 

Why does the wood of which matches are made take fire so easily ? 

"Why do not matches always take fire ? 

Does heat always make fire ? 

What things contain heat ? 

Where does the heat come from, when a fire is made ? 

What is the reason that the shovel and tongs do not take fire ? 

Where does smoke eome from ? 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 



99 




CONVERSATION VII. 

HEAT. 

Child. — Mother, you told me a great many things 
about fire, and how it made heat free. Now, mother, 
is not fire the same as heat, and heat the same as fire ? 
Are they not both alike ? 

Mother. — No, my dear; for although there can be 
no fire without heat, there may be heat without fire, as 
I will now show you. Here is a small bottle, which 
contains something that looks like water, only it looks 
a little yellow. You must be careful not to touch it, 
for it will burn like fire ; and if a drop of it falls on 



100 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



your dress, it will make a red spot in it, and then make 
a hole through it.* You may feel the outside of the 
phial, and you will perceive that it feels cold. Now go 
and bring a tumbler, and a pitcher of cold water. Now, 
I am going to pour a little of the liquid from the phial 
into the tumbler, and then pour some cold water also 
into the tumbler ; and as the water mixes with the fluid 
in the tumbler, I wish you to feel of the outside of the 
tumbler. 

Child. — Dear mother, how hot the tumbler is ! I can 
scarcely hold it in my hand, it is so warm. 

Mother. — But there is no fire in the tumbler, is 
there ? 

Child. — No, mother; there is none that I can see. 

Mother. — But you say that there is a great deal of 
heat in the tumbler. You see, then, that there can be 
heat without fire, although there can be no fire without 
heat. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; but where does the heat 
come from? 

Mother. — I think I told you, in our last conver- 
sation, that there is heat in everything, but that it is 
hidden, until something makes it come out. When the 



# The fluid represented in the phial is sulphuric acid, or vitriol. 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 101 

heat is taken out of water, do you know what water 
becomes ? 

Child. — No, mother; I never saw water with heat 
taken out of it. You told me, in our first conversation, 
that heat changes the water into steam ; and that when 
the steam is cold, it turns back again into water. 

Mother. — But what does water do, when it is put oat 
into the cofd, in a very cold day ? 

Child. — Why, mother, it freezes, and becomes ice. 

Mother. — What makes it become ice ? 

Child. — I do not know, mother, unless it is the cold. 

Mother. — Can you tell me, Caroline, what the ice 
will do, if you bring it into a warm room, or hold it in 
your hand, or in your mouth ? 

Child. — Why, mother, it melts, and becomes water 
again. 

Mother. — What makes it melt, or become water 
again ? 

Child. — I do not know, mother, unless it is the heat 
of the fire, or the warmth of my hand, or of my mouth? 

Mother. — Exactly so, my dear ; the heat has 
changed it from ice to water. Now, if the heat that 
has got into the ice and changed it to water could be 
taken away from the water, what would the water 
become ? 



102 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — I do not know, mother, unless it would 
change it back again into ice. 

Mother. — After the heat has changed the ice into 
water, can you tell me what it will do, if more heat is 
applied to the water ? 

Child. — Why the water would boil, mother, if there 
was sufficient heat. -. 

Mother. — And when the water boils away, where 
does it go to ? 

Child. — O, I recollect now, mother, you told me that 
boiling away means only that heat has changed the 
water into steam. 

Mother. — Well, then, Caroline ; if the heat be taken 
away from the steam, or if the steam becomes cold 
again, what will be the effect ? 

Child. — Why, mother, the steam would then be 
changed to water. 

Mother. — Very well ; and if we take away from 
water more heat still, and thus make it very cold, what 
will the water then become ? 

Child. — Why, mother, when the water is made very 
cold, it becomes ice. 

Mother. — You see, then, my child, that heat pro- 
duces great changes in water. When water is frozen, 
heat changes the ice back into water ; and when the 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 103 

water is made very hot by the addition of much more 
heat, the heat changes the water into steam. 

Child. — What is cold, mother J 

Mother. — Cold, Caroline, is nothing but the absence 
of heat ; just as darkness is merely the absence of light. 

Child. — But cold can be added to things, in the same 
way that heat may be added. When anything is 
made hot, if we add more heat to it, it becomes hotter : 
and when a thing is cold, if we add more cold to it. it 
becomes colder ; does it not. mother 7 

Mother. — We cannot add cold to anything, any 
more than we can add darkness to any place. A dark 
place can be made darker, not by adding darkness, but 
by stopping up all the means by which light can 
approach it. So a thing becomes colder, not by adding 
more cold, but taking away what heat there is remain- 
ing in it. 

Child. — What is heat, mother? 

Mother. — That is another of God's secrets, my dear. 
He has not permitted us to find out what heat is : but 
although we do not know what heat is, we do know a 
great many things about it. 

Child. — That is what you told me about light, 
mother. You said that we do not know what light is. 
but we do know a great many things about it. 



104 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Mother. — Heat, my dear, is very much like light, 
in that respect, and in some others too. You have seen 
that light is reflected, or thrown back, from many 
smooth surfaces. Heat is likewise reflected in the 
same way. 

Child. — Heat reflected, mother! does heat reflect its 
colors, like light ? 

Mother. — No, my child, it does not reflect its colors. 
We do not know that heat has any color. 

Child. — Why, mother, do not you recollect, the other 
day, that you blamed Alice for carelessly leaving her 
irons on the fire too long, because they became red hot. 
Now, if heat has no color, how can a thing become red 
hot? 




Mother. — Heat has the power of changing the 
colors of some things, my dear, but not the power of 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 105 

making them. Did you ever hear of an iron's bee 
ing black hot J 

Child. — No. mother: but the irons are hot when 
Alice irons or presses the clothes that she has washed, 
and they are also black. Is that what you mean, 
mother, by black hot ?- 

Mother. — That would be what I meant, my dear. 
if I meant anything. I only wanted to convey to you 
the idea that heat has no color. And yet we do some- 
times speak of heat as if it had color. You told me 
that the iron was hot. and was black : and that when 
Alice carelessly left it on the fire too long, it became 
red. Now I wish you to notice the coal which is burn- 
in ff in the grate, and tell me of what color it is. 




Child. — All around the outside, mother, the coal 
looks black : and further into the tire, it looks red. 



106 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — Now look right at the middle of the 
lire. 

Child. — Why, right in the middle, mother, the coal 
is almost white, and looks as if it were very hot there. 

Mother. — You are right, my dear; it is intensely 
hot there. The color of the coal shows the degree of 
heat, not the color of heat. You know that where the 
coal appears red, it has kindled and become on fire ; it 
is therefore hotter than the black coal : and where the 
coal appears almost white, in the middle of the fire, 
there is more heat there, because it is surrounded on all 
sides by the burning coals. 

Child. — Then, heat is more powerful than light, 
is it not, mother? 

Mother. — Certainly it is ; for you see how easily 
heat appears to change the color. But that is not all. 
Can you tell me what effect heat has on the butter, 
when Alice spreads the butter on hot toasted bread ? 

Child. — Yes, mother; it melts the butter. 

Mother. — Does it not change its color first? 

Child. — O yes, mother ; it changes the beautiful yel- 
low color of butter, and makes it liquid, like water. 

Mother. — And what does heat do to ice and to 
water ; does it not change the color of them also ? 

Child. — Yes, mother; it makes the ice melt, and 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 107 

changes it from ice into water ; and it turns the water 
into steam. 

Mother. — You see, then, Caroline, that heat not only 
changes the color, but also the form, of many things. 
Now, can you tell me what it does to the wood and the 
coal on the fire ? 

Child. — It first makes them turn red, and then makes 
them turn white, and then burns them up. 

Mother. — What do you mean, my dear, by " burn- 
ing them up"? 

Child. — Why, mother, it keeps heating them more 
and more, until they are all gone, and no more wood 
or coal remains. 

Mother. — And does nothing remain after the wood 
and coal are burnt up ? 

Child. — Nothing, mother, but ashes, and sometimes 
some dead coal, that looks black, or is covered with 
ashes. 

Mother. — And what is ashes? 

Child. — Ashes, mother, is what remains after the 
wood and coal have burnt up. 

Mother. — And do you not now see, Caroline, that 
this is the effect of heat on the coal and the wood? 

Child. — O yes, dear mother, the heat changes the 
wood and the coal into ashes ; does it not, mother ? 

8 



10S 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Mother. — Yes, my dear; and does not heat convert 
the wood and coal into something else besides ashes? 

Child. — I do not know, mother. I do not see any- 
thing else in the fireplace, except some dead coals, 
when the fire has gone out. 

Mother. — Did you not see the smoke come from the 
wood and the coal, and go up the chimney ? 

Child. — O, yes, mother; the heat changes the wood 
and the coal into smoke and ashes. 

Mother. — And the smoke goes up the chimney, and 
the ashes fall down into the fireplace. Can you tell 
me why the smoke goes up and the ashes fall down ? 

Child. — I recollect that you told me, when we were 
talking about the rain, that things which are lighter 
than the air will rise in the air, just as steam rises ; and 
that things which are heavier than air will fall. I 
suppose, then, that the smoke is lighter, and the ashes 
heavier, than the air. 

Mother. — You are right. Now, Caroline, can you 
tell me anything else which is produced, when heat 
converts the wood and coal into ashes? 

Child. — I see nothing else, dear mother. 

Mother. — But do you not smell something when coal 
is burning? 

Child. — O yes, mother ; when the coal fire is made, 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 1C9 

I perceive a smell very much like that which is made 
when Alice lights a match. 

Mother. — And where do you think the smell comes 
from ? 

Child. — I am sure that I do not know, mother. 

Mother. — The coal has no smell before it is burn- 
ing ; but. as soon as it burns, the smell comes from the 
coal. 

Child. — Oh, yes. mother; I see, i\3W 7 that the heat 
makes the smoke and the smell come out from the coal, 
and then turns the coal into ashes. 

Mother. — Yes, but you cannot see the smell, can 
you? 

Child. — No, mother, I cannot see it, any more than 
I can see the heat. 

Mother. — But it must be something, otherwise you 
could not perceive it. You see, then, that heat changes 
the wood and the coal into ashes and smoke, and some- 
thing else, which you can smell. 

Child. — Yes, mother. And now can you tell me 
what heat is ? 

Mother. — No, my dear, I cannot tell you what heat 
is. All that is known is, that it is something which 
exists in everything, but is hidden until something 
causes it to come out : and when it does come out, it 



110 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



produces great changes in different things. In some 
things it produces very little change, as you see in the 
bricks in the fireplace, and the iron bars of the grate ; 
but if a burning coal should fall on the carpet, or the 
floor, you know that it would burn a hole. 

Now, you saw, when Alice lifted the lid of the tea- 
kettle, a large cloud of steam came out, which you said 
went all over the room. I explained to you that the 
steam was water heated, and that when the heat was 
taken away, the steam became water again. Now can 
you tell which was the larger, the water that was 
boiling in the kettle, or the steam that came out of the 
kettle ? 

Child. — Why, mother, the steam kept coming out 
of the tea-kettle all the time, and it had almost filled 
the room in a minute. 

Mother. — But it was all made out of the water in 
the tea-kettle ; was it not ? 

Child. — Yes, mother; but when it came out of the 
tea-kettle, there appeared to be enough in the room to 
fill a great many kettles. 

Mother. — Then the steam was much larger than 
the water, was it not ? 

Child. — Oh, yes, mother; it was a great deal larger. 



Mother. — What made it larger? 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 



Ill 



Child. — I am sure I do not know, mother. 

Mother. — Then I will tell you. my dear, that it was 
the heat. The heat caused it to swell out and grow so 
large that it could not remain in the kettle. You see. 
then, that another of the effects of heat is, that it makes 
things grow larger. When Alice puts her little cakes 
into the oven to bake, you know they are very small, 
and do not fill the mould. When they are baked and 
taken out of the oven, you see that they have risen 
above the tops of the mould, and sometimes they run 
over the mould. Can you tell me the reason of this, 
Caroline ? 

Child. — Oh, yes, mother; the 
heat of the oven makes them 
swell out and grow larger. Is it 
not so? 

Mother. — Yes, it is. 

Child. — But, mother, what is 
the reason that when the cakes 
grow cold they do not grow 
smaller, in the same manner that 
the steam, when it grows cold, 
becomes smaller, and turns into water. 

Mother. — Before the cakes were put into the oven, 
or, in other words, before heat was applied to them, they 




112 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



were nothing but dough, or sponge. But after they are 
baked and have become cold, they do not change back 
again into dough, do they? 

Child. — Why, no, dear mother. 

Mother. — But what prevents them from turning 
back again to dough, my dear, when they are cold, in 
the same manner that the steam, when cold, turns back 
again to water ? 

Child. — Heat must have done something else to the 
cakes, besides causing them to swell, which prevents 
their turning back into dough, when they are cold. 

Mother. — You are right; and the heat cooks our 
food also for us, and dries our clothes, and ripens the 
fruits in summer, and melts the cold snow and ice in 
winter, and forms the clouds which give us the refresh- 
ing showers in summer ; so that heat must be mentioned 
with light, as one of the rich blessings which our Great 
Creator has bestowed upon us. 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION SEVENTH. 

Is fire and heat the same thing ? 
Can there be heat without fire, or fire without heat ? 
Does everything contain heat ? 

When the heat is taken away from water, what does the water 
become ? 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 113 

What effect does heat produce on water ? 

What does ice become, when put into a warm place ? 

What makes ice become water ? 

When ice is converted into water by heat, what will the water 
become, if more heat is applied ? 

When water boils away, where does it go ? 

What is cold ? 

What is heat ? 

What is heat like, in many things ? 

When heat is thrown against a bright surface, what becomes of it ? 

Has heat colors, like light ? 

Of what color is a coal fire ? 

What does the color of burning coal show ? 

Which is the more powerful, heat or light ? 

What effect does heat have on butter ? 

What does heat do to the wood and coal on a fire ? 

What do we mean when we say a thing burns up ? 

What remains when anything is burnt up ? 

What is ashes ? 

What else does heat produce from things that are burnt up, besides 
ashes ? 

Why does smoke rise, and ashes fall ? 

Does heat make things appear larger, or smaller ? 

What is the reason that cakes are larger after they have been 
baked ? 

What does heat do for us ? 



114 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



CONVERSATION VIII. 

HEAT— Continued. 

Child. — You told me, mother, when we were talking 
about heat, that it is reflected, like light, but without 
colors. Will you please to explain this to me. 

Mother. — Yes, my dear, heat is reflected, just in the 
same manner that light is, from all smooth surfaces. 
Now, you know what I meant when I told you that 
light is absorbed. 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; I recollect that when we 
were talking about light, you showed me the difference 
between absorbing and reflecting. When I threw my 
little ball against the door and it bounded back from 
the door, you told me that light did the same thing 
when it fell on smooth surfaces, just as if light was 
made of a very great number of little balls.. And when 
I threw a little water from the tumbler at your hand- 
kerchief, and it soaked into the handkerchief, and did 
not bound back from the handkerchief, as my ball did 
from the door, you said that the water was absorbed ; 
and that light is absorbed; in the same manner, by those 
things that do not reflect it. But, mother, is heat both 
reflected and absorbed too ? 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 



115 



Mother. — Heat is reflected, my dear, from bright 
things, just as light is from smooth ones; and it is 
absorbed by other things, that do not reflect it. 

Child. — But, mother, you told me that heat cannot 
be seen, and that it has no color ; how, then, can it be 
seen that it is reflected, or absorbed ; and how can we 
tell anything about it ? 

Mother. — It is very true, that we cannot see 
it, and that it has no color ; but if you were to shut 
your eyes, and I were to lead you about the room, 
could you tell me when I carried you near the fire 3 

Child. — Why, yes, mother; I could feel it. 




Mother. — Well, my dear, we can, in the same way, 
discover that heat is reflected, as I shall presently show 



116 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

you. But first I wish you to hold the back of the 
shovel up to the fire a few minutes, at the same time 
that I hold up this bright sheet of tin. We will hold 
them both at the same distance, and the same length 
of time. 

Child. — Why, mother, the back of the shovel has 
become so hot that I cannot bear to touch it. 

Mother. — Now, feel of the sheet of tin 

Child. — Why, mother, the tin is scarcely warm; and 
yet it has been quite as long and as close to the fire as 
the shovel. 

Mother. — Yes, my child, but the tin is bright, and 
reflects the heat ; and the shovel is dark, and does not 
reflect it, but absorbs the heat, and therefore becomes 
warm first. Now, the heat is reflected from the tin, as it 
comes from the fire ; and I suppose you oan understand 
why it is that Alice puts the meat which is to be 
roasted into a tin-kitchen ? 

Child. — Oh yes, mother; the back of the tin-kitchen 
is bright, and reflects the heat of the fire; and the heat 
falls on the back of the meat, which is away from the 
fire. But, mother, Alice often turns the meat in the tin- 
kitchen, as she says, to roast the back parts of it, and 
to let all the parts come round to the fire. 

Mother. — Very well; but it would take a much 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 117 

longer time to roast the meat, if the back were not partly 
cooked by the heat reflected from the back of the tin- 
kitcjien.* 

Child. — But, mother, there is no tin sheet in the 
oven, to reflect the heat there. 

Mother. — That is true ; and it is not necessary that 
there should be, because the oven is surrounded by the 
heat. The heat from the fire goes up all around the 
sides of the oven, and heats it all around ; but when 
anything is placed before the fire, the heat from the fire 
will strike only those parts which are towards the fire, 
unless something reflects it back. 

Child. — How very surprising, dear mother, all these 
things are, which you have told me, about the rain, and 
the snow, and the hail, and the clouds, and the colors, 
and light, and heat ! 

Mother. — Yes, my child, "we are surrounded by 
mysteries, and are mysteries even to ourselves." And 
now, Caroline, I wish to ask you a question, to see 
whether you have been thinking much of what we 

# The apparatus called a Connecticut Baker is also constructed on 
the same principle. The slanting top of the Baker reflects the heat 
to the top and back of the articles enclosed, to be cooked, and thus 
saves the heat which would otherwise be lost, and performs the cook- 
ing much more expeditiously. 



IIS JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

have been talking about. You were very much sur- 
prised when I at first told ycFu that light came from 
your father, when you saw him through the window. 
Now, can you tell me, Caroline, whether he gives out 
heat, too, as well as light ? 

Child. — Father give out heat, mother ! Why, that ap- 
pears more strange than when you said that light came 
from him, and I asked you whether he was a lamp. 
You almost persuaded me, mother, that he was a lamp ; 
and now you wish to persuade me that he is a fire too. 

Mother. — No, Caroline, 1 do not wish you to think 
that your father is really a lamp, because he gives out, 
or rather reflects, the light ; for, if he were, there would 
be nothing but lamps in the world. Everything on 
which light shines, and which will reflect it, gives out 
the light that it reflects; and, as you and I, and 
everybody, give out this reflected light, we might all 
be called lamps with as much propriety as your father. 
Neither are we all fires, although all of us give out 
heat, too, as well as light. 

Child. — Why, mother, I do not understand you. 
What is it that you mean to say ? 

Mother. — I mean to say, my dear, that our heavenly 
Father has endowed us with the faculty of producing 
heat, to warm ourselves. 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 119 

Child. — How can we do that 3 mother? 

Mother. — You know, Caroline, that when you go 
to bed on a cold night, the bed and the sheets, at first, 
feel very cold ; and that after you have lain in bed a 
short time, you begin to feel warm. 

Child. — Yes, mother, but it is the blankets, and the 
bed and bed-clothes, that make us warm. 

Mother. — That keep you warm, my dear; not that 
make you so. 

Child. — If the bed-clothes do not make us warm, 
dear mother, what is the reason that people who lie 
cold in bed want more blankets and bed-clothes ? 

Mother. — It is to keep the heat in the bed; not to 
make it. 

Child. — Why, mother, there is no heat in the bed- 
clothes, when we get in on a cold night. The bed and 
the clothes all feel very cold, and we are very cold our- 
selves. 

Mother. — Where, then, does the heat come from, 
Caroline ? It is not in the bed, nor the blankets, nor 
the other bed-clothes: for you say that they are all very 
cold themselves. 

Child. — I am sure, mother, I cannot tell. 

Mother. — I told you, my dear, that everything con- 
tains heat, but that the heat is hidden, until something 



120 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

causes it to come out. You recollect, that when Alice 
lighted the fire, she first kindled the match ; and the 
match kindled the shavings ; and the shavings kindled 
the coal and wood; and then a nice warm fire was 
produced. Now, our great and good Creator has pro- 
vided us with the means of obtaining sufficient heat to 
warm ourselves, without a fire, when we grow cold. 
How this is done, it will be very difficult to explain to 
you, until you are much older. But you know that 
although your hands and your feet, and perhaps your 
cheeks, may become cold, that your flesh is always 
warm. You have seen the boys in the streets, on a 
cold day, put their hands into their pockets, to keep 
them warm. The pocket is warm, because it lies near 
the warm flesh of the body. When you get into a 
cold bed, the warmth of the body warms the bed, and 
the bed-clothes keep the warmth in, and in a short time 
the whole body becomes warm. 

Child. — How is it, mother, that the blankets and the 
bed-clothes keep the heat in? Does not the heat go 
through the blankets and the bed-clothes, and go off, 
just as the steam did from the tea-kettle. 

Mother. — You recollect that I told you, when we 
were talking about light, that there are some things 
which the light passes through very easily, as the glass 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 121 

in the window-sashes ; and that there are some things 
which the light cannot pass through easily, as the 
paper which you held up to the window ; and there 
are some things which light cannot pass through at all, 
as the board which was held up to the window. Now, 
heat, like light, passes through some things much more 
easily than it does through others ; but there are few, 
if any, things which heat will not pass through at all. 
Heat passes easily through linen, and with more diffi- 
culty through cotton, and with still more difficulty 
through wool and fur. 

Child. — O yes, mother; and that is the reason that 
the blankets keep the heat in the bed, and thus keep 
us warm. The heat from our bodies goes easily 
through the linen sheets ; but when it comes to the 
blankets, it cannot pass through them so easily. But, 
mother, why do some people have two blankets on the 
bed, if one will keep the heat in ? Grandfather almost 
always has two blankets, and sometimes three, on his bed. 

Mother. — I told you, my dear, that there are few 
things, if any, that heat will not pass through. But it 
does pass through the blanket, although it passes 
through it slowly ; and if it is difficult for the heat to 
pass through one blanket, it will be more difficult for 
it to pass through two or three. 



122 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — But, mother, if the heat passes through the 
blanket, and through everything on the bed, why do we 
not grow cold in bed, instead of growing warmer? 
Now, sometimes, when I wake in the night, I am so 
very warm that I wish to have some of the bed-clothes 
removed. 

Mother. — I told you, my dear, that our Great Crea- 
tor has given to our bodies the faculty of producing 
heat, to keep the flesh warm ; and as fast as the heat 
passes from the body to 4Jie bed-clothes, the body 
makes more heat, and thus keeps the flesh constantly 
warm. When the body makes warmth or heat faster 
than it is carried through the bed-clotffes, then the flesh 
becomes too warm, and we feel uncomfortable. 

Child. — But, mother, ^ what is the reason that grand- 
father has so many blankets on his bed ? You seldom 
have more than one put on mine ; and I am sure that I 
never saw more than two on yours. 

Mother. — Can you tell me, my dear, why your 
grandfather cannot run, and dance, and skip about, as 
easily and as gayly as you do ? 

Child. — Why, grandfather is old, dear mother, and 
old folks cannot run so easily as young ones do. 

Mother. — Yes; and that is the reason that he 
requires so many blankets to keep him warm. When 



CONVERSATION OX HEAT. 123 

he was young, like you. he could move as quickly and 
as easily as you do. But now. age has impaired his 
sight : he cannot hear so well as he once did. and his 
body has lost a part of its power to produce heat to 
warm his flesh. He therefore needs more bed-clothes, 
to prevent the heat escaping. 



Child. — You told me. mother, that the bed-clothes 
keep the heat of the flesh in the bed, and keep us 
warm. The other day, I saw Alice take the ice from 
the ice-man, and wrap it in a piece of blanket, before 
she put it into the refrigerator. Did she do that to 
keep the ice warm, mother, and to make it melt 
sooner I 

Mother. — No, my child ; she did that to keep the ice 
cold, and to prevent its melting. 

9 



124 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Child. — Dear mother, will a blanket keep us warm, 
and keep the ice cold too ? How very strange ! 

Mother. — No, my child, not strange at all. It keeps 
us warm, by keeping the heat in the bed where we lie. 
Now, you know, my dear, that when I lock the door, to 
keep us in the room, the door not only keeps us in, but 
it also keeps others out. If heat, then, is kept in the 
bed, because it cannot pass through the blanket, it will 
be kept away from the ice by the blanket which covers 
it. The ice, therefore, will melt much more slowly 
when it is covered by the blanket, for the blanket keeps 
the heat of the room away from it. 

Child. — How many interesting things, dear mother, 
you have told me, about the rain, and the clouds, and 
the light, and beautiful colors, and heat! I wish you 
could tell me a little more about fire. 

Mother. — I can tell you many things about it, when 
you are older, and are better able to understand them. 
But I have not quite done with heat. You saw that 
heat changed the wood and the coal into ashes, and 
smoke, and vapors ; and you know that heat changes 
ice into water, and water into steam. You know that 
heat, when applied in sufficient quantity, appears to 
consume the wood and the coal. There are very few 
things, if any, that heat does not alter. When it is 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 



125 



applied in large quantities at a time, we see its effects 
almost immediately. Sometimes, when it is applied 
very slowly and for a long time, it produces changes 
much more remarkable. You have seen a hen sitting 
on eggs. The heat from her body warms the eggs, 
and in a few weeks the little chicken comes from the 




shell. How this is produced, the Great Creator alone 
knows. But that it is done through the agency of heat, 
is well known, because some people have caused chick- 
ens to be hatched merely by keeping the eggs in a 
warm oven. 



126 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Child. — Why, mother, I thought the oven would 
cook the eggs ! 

Mother. — So it would, Caroline, if there were suf- 
ficient heat in the oven. But, to hatch the eggs, re- 
quires a constant heat, just as great as that of the body 
of the hen. It requires a greater degree of heat to cook 
the eggs ; but if there be too much heat in the oven, the 
eggs will be burnt. 

Child. — Mother, where does all the heat go to, that 
comes from the fire, and that escapes through the bed- 
clothes, and that comes from the sunshine, and other 
things. 

Mother. — You have asked me now, my dear, a 
question that is very easy for me to answer; but I fear 
that you will find it more difficult to understand. Now, 
let me first ask you a simpler question, in order that 
it may assist you in understanding this. Suppose I 
should give you a large piece of cake, and tell you to 
go out into the street and give a piece to everybody 
that you meet, and that everybody who received a 
piece from you did the same with his piece, — that is, 
should give a small piece to every one that he meets, — 
what would become of the cake ? 

Child. — Why, mother, everybody would get a piece 
of it; but no one could keep any of it long, for he would 



CONVERSATION* ON HEAT. 



127 




have to keep giving it away, as long as a crumb of it 
remains. 

Mother. — Precisely so. my dear; and that is exactly 
what takes place with the heat. When the hidden 
heat becomes free, it diffuses itself equally all over 
the room: heating those things first which are nearest, 
and gradually extending itself all over the room: so 
that all things in the room become of the same 
warmth. 

Child. — Why. dear mother, how can you say so? 
That beautiful smooth marble slab, on the centre-table, 
which you told me to draw my hand over, when we 
were talking about light. — it was so cold that I could 
scarcely bear my hand upon it. 

Mother. — That it feU cold to 
your hand, my dear. I do not 
doubt : and perhaps I shall find 
some difficulty in convincing you 
that it was. in reality, as warm as 
any part of the table on which it 
stood. But before I attempt to 
explain this. I wish you to request 
Alice to fetch a small piece of ice 
from the refrigerator, in a plate, and also a basin of 
cold water. 



128 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Child. — I have done so, dear mother; and here comes 
Alice, with the ice and the water. 

Mother. — Now take your left hand, Caroline, and 
plunge it into the basin of cold water, and tell me 
whether it feels cold to your hand. 

Child. — Yes, dear mother; it feels very cold. 

Mother. — Now take the ice in your right hand, and 
hold it a little while; and then return the ice to the plate, 
and put your right hand into the water, and tell me 
how the water feels. 

Child. — Why, dear mother, the cold water in the 
basin feels quite warm to my right hand, although it 
felt so cold to the left. 

Mother. — Exactly so; and you now see that the 
same thing may appear both warm and cold. It ap- 
pears warm to that which is colder, and cold to that 
which is warmer. I told you that heat passes readily 
through some bodies, and with great difficulty through 
others. Those bodies which allow it to pass through 
them readily receive it quickly, and part with it 
quickly, and are therefore good conductors of heat; 
while those bodies through which it passes with diffi- 
culty receive it slowly, and part with it slowly, and 
are therefore bad conductors of heat. Now, your hand 
receives most of its heat from the warmth of your body. 



- 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 129 

When you touched the marble slab, the slab received 
the heat from your hand very quickly ; and your hand 
felt cold, because the marble slab had taken so much 
of its heat. Whatever your hand touches, it commu- 
nicates its heat to it. If the thing which it touches 
receives the heat quickly, that thing will appear cold to 
the hand ; but if it receives the heat slowly, the hand 
does not perceive the loss of its heat. 

Child. — But is not the marble slab colder than my 
hand, mother? 

Mohter. — Yes, Caroline: because the slab, like 
everything else in the room, receives its heat from 
the heat of the room. Your hand is warmer than 
the chairs, tables, and other furniture in the room, 
because it is constantly receiving heat from the body. 
But the slab is really no colder than anything around 
it. The reason that it feels cold is, that it receives 
the heat from your hand more readily than the other 
articles in the room; and your hand perceives the 
loss of heat, and of course feels cold. You recollect that 
I told you that cold is merely the absence of heat, just 
as darkness is merely the absence of light. 

Child. — O yes, dear mother; how wonderful it all is ! 

Mother. — It is, indeed. Can you now tell me 
why it is that on a warm day your shoes feel tight, 



130 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



and your feet uncomfortable, and you wish to take off 
your shoes ? 

Child. — I do not know, mother, unless it is because 
my shoes are too small. 

Mother. — But they were large enough when you 
first put them on, in the morning, were they not ? 

Child. — Yes, dear mother; but I suppose that my 
feet have swollen, and therefore my shoes become too 
small. 

Mother. — But what has caused your feet to swell, 
Caroline ? 

Child. — I am sure I do not know, mother; but I have 
heard a great many people say, in warm weather, that 
their feet have swollen. 

Mother. — This is one of the effects of heat, my 
child. Heat, as I believe I have told you, makes 
almost everything grow larger; therefore, as the feet 
swell in hot weather, the shoes pinch the feet, unless 
they are made large enough to allow the feet to swell 
without crowding them. 

Child. — Yes, mother; and when a person has a 
tight shoe, it will be better for that person to keep his 
feet away from the fire, lest the heat of the fire should 
make his feet swell more, and thus make the shoe still 
more uncomfortable. 



CONVERSATION ON HEAT. 131 

Mother. — That is true; and you now begin. I 
hope, to see. that, while you are learning the reasons of 
the appearances around you. you are. at the same time, 
receiving useful practical lessons. 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION EIGHTH. 

How is heat reflected? 

What is meant by heat being absorbed ? 

Is heat both reflected and absorbed ? 

How can we tell when heat is reflected ? 

Why does not anything bright become warm, when placed before a 
fire? 

Of what use is " a tin-kitchen"? 

Of what use are blankets and bed-clothes ? 

Where does the warmth that we feel in bed come from ? 

How are the hands warmed, when we put them into our pockets ? 

Does heat pass easily through all things ? 

Why do old persons require more bed-clothes than young ones ? 

Why is ice kept in woollen, in the summer season ? 

Where does heat go. when it escapes ? 

Why does a marble slab feel colder than a table-cloth ? 

What bodies are good conductors of heat ? 

What things feel cold to the touch ? 

Why do your shoes feel tight on a warm day ? 

What causes the feet to swell ? 

What effect does heat produce on almost everything? 

Why should a person with a tight shoe keep his feet away from the 
fire ? 



132 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 




CONVERSATION IX. 

WIND. 

Child. — Mother, you have told me so many wonderful 
things about the clouds, and rain, and other interesting 
subjects, that I almost forgot that we were playing 
school together. I want you now to tell me what 
Wind is ? 

Mother. — I must answer your question, Caroline, by 
asking another, first. Can you tell me what air is ? 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 133 

Child. — Air, mother, I have often heard you say, is 
what we breathe. 

Mother. — Suppose, when you asked me what light 
is, I had told you it is what wc see ; should you have 
understood me, had I told you nothing else about it? 
And when you asked me what heat is, if I had told 
you that heat is what we feel when we go near to a 
fire, would that answer have made you understand 
anything more about it than you knew before you 
asked me ? 

Child. — Why, no, mother ; certainly not. 

Mother. — Then, when I ask you what air is, and 
you tell me that it is what we breathe, does that answer 
convey to your mind, or mine, any clear idea of what 
air is ? 

Child. — I cannot say, mother, that I think it does. 

Mother. — Then you must try again. 

Child. — The air, mother, is what comes in at the 
doors and the windows. 

Mother. — And do not light and heat come in at the 
doors and windows ? 

Child. — Why, yes, mother; but I do not know what 
else to say about air. 

Mother. — Do you know what fishes live and swim 
in? 



134 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — They live, dear mother, and swim, in the 
water. 

Mother. — And we also, like the fishes, live and move 
in something that in many respects resembles water. 

Child. — What is that something, mother, resembling 
water, which we live in, as the fishes live in water? 

Mother. — Air, my dear. It surrounds us, as the 
water surrounds the fishes. 

Child. — But, mother, I can see the water which 
fishes live in, but I cannot see the air which you say 
we live in. 

Mother. — No, my dear; neither can you see heat; 
but, nevertheless, you know that it exists, because you 
can feel it. Now, although we cannot see air, yet we 
can both feel it and hear it. 

Child. — I am sure, dear mother, that I have never 
felt the air, nor heard it. 

Mother. — And I am equally sure that you have 
both felt it and heard it, but did not know what it 
was. 

Child. — When, dear mother, and where, have I 
heard it, or felt it? 

Mother. — Every day, my child and almost all day 
long. 

Child. — Dear mother, how you surprise me ! 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 



135 



Mother. — It is no less true, Caroline, than surpris- 
ing, as I shall presently show you. Have you never 
heard your little brother snapping his whip? 

Child. — O, yes, dear mother, very often ; and when 
father first gave it to him, he was snapping it almost 
all the time. 

Mother. — And you have heard 
him blowing his whistle, too, have 
you not ? 

Child. — Why, yes, mother; and 
he sometimes makes such a noise 
with it, that I almost wish he never 
had had it. 

Mother. — Did you ever think 
what it was that made the noise? 

Child. — Why, it was the whistle, 
mother, was it not? 

Mother. — Did you ever hear the whistle, when it 
was lying in the drawer, or on the table, or on the 
floor? 

Child. — Why, no, mother: whistles do not whistle 
themselves, do they? 

Mother. — No, of course they do not. When your 
little brother makes such a noise with it, how does he 




make the noise ? 



136 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Child. — Why, mother, he only blows into the whis- 
th\ and then it makes the noise. 

Mother. — But what does he blow into it, my dear ? 

Child. — Why, he blows his breath into it, mother; 
and that makes it make a noise. 

Mother. — Come here, my dear, and let me breathe 
on your hand, and tell me whether you feel anything. 

Child. — I only feel it a little warm, mother. 

Mother. — And now I will blow on your hand, my 
dear. Tell me whether that feels warm, too. 

Child. — No, dear mother; that feels quite cool. 

Mother. — Then, Caroline, there is something that 
comes from your mouth, when you breathe, that is 
sometimes warm and sometimes cool. 

Child. — Yes, dear mother, what is it? I cannot see 
it, any more than I can see heat. I thought it was 
heat, until you showed me that it is sometimes warm 
and sometimes cool. 

Mother. — That something that comes from your 
mouth when you breathe, and is sometimes warm and 
sometimes cool, is the same thing that your little 
brother blows into his whistle, to make the noise. It is 
air. 

Child. — Mother dear, I thought that the air was up 
in the skies, where the birds fly. 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 



137 



Mother. — So it is, Caroline ; and it is also down low, 
where pussy lies, and on the table, and in the chimney, 
and on the top of the house, and down in the cellar, 
and everywhere around us. 

Child. — But. mother, I did not know the air is any- 
thing. If the air is anything, how can the birds fly in it? 

Mother. — The water is something, you very well 

know ; and yet the fishes swim in it. Indeed, if the air 

were not something, the birds could not fly in it, any 

| more than the fishes can swim when they are taken out 

of the water. 

Child. — But, mother, if the air is something, why 
can we not see it, or feel it, except when some one 
blows, as you did on my hand ? 

Mother. — We cannot, indeed, see it; but we can see 
that it reflects the light. 

Child. — How, dear mother, can we see it reflecting 
the light? 

Mother. — Do you not recollect, that I told you why 
the sky appears blue ? 

Child. — Yes, mother; you said that the blue rays of 
light could not go through the air like the red ones, and 
were therefore reflected by the air to our eyes. 

Mother. — Then the air must be something that 
stops the rays, and reflects them. 



13S JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Child. — But. mother, you said that the air is all 
around us ; why, then, do we not see it all around us, 
as well as in the sky, reflecting the rays of light? 

Mother. — Because, my dear, there is so small a 
quantity around us, compared with what is in what 
you call the sky. But although we cannot see the air 
around us, we can feel it, and hear it, whenever we 
please. 




Child. — How, dear mother ? 

Mother. — When you fan yourself, you feel it; do 
you not? 

Child. — O yes, mother. 

Mother. — And do you not hear it too? 

Child. — Why, mother, is the noise that I hear when 



— - . >-' . , i * — : 

.'. CONVERSATION ON WIND. 13! 

I am fanning myself, and which sounds so much like 
wind, made by air? 

Mother. — Certainly it is; and the wind itself is 
nothing more than the air put into motion. 

Child. — What puts it in motion, mother? — are so 
many people fanning themselves at the same time, as 
to make the wind blow so loud as we sometimes hear 
it? 

Mother. — No, my dear; there are many causes 
which make the air move. We do not move ourselves, 
without making the air move too. Nay, we cannot 
lift our hand nor move a finger, without making the air 
move. 

Child. — What, mother ! do we make all the air in the 
sky, and all around us, move when we move ? 

Mother. — Not exactly so, my dear. In order that 
you may understand this better, I must show you 
something about water first. Take a tumbler, my 
dear, and fill it full of water, and set it on a salver, and 
bring it to me. 

Child. — Here it is, mother; and it is so full that I 
feared I should spill it. 

Mother, — Now, Caroline, put your hand into the 
tumbler of water, quite to the bottom of the tum- 
bler. 



10 



140 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



Child. — The water has run out, all over the salver. 
Mother. — That is precisely what I expected, my 
lear, and what I wished you particularly to notice. 
Now, can you tell me why the water ran over ? 

Child. — Why, mother, the water ran over because 
the tumbler was full, and there was not room in the 
tumbler for both my hand and the water too. 

Mother. — You see, then, my dear, that two things 
annot be in the same place at the same time. If we 
wish to put one thing where another thing is, we must 
iirst move that other thing. 

Child.- — But, mother, air does 
not require to be moved, does it, 
before we can put anything into 
the place where the air is ? 

Mother. — Just as much as wa- 
■ ter does, as I shall presently show 
you. Take this small phial, and 
put it into the water, holding it 
H under the water until it is full, and 
tell me whether you can see the 
air come out. 

Child. — No, mother, I do not see any air come out; 
only see some bubbles coming up from the phial. 
Mother. — Those things which you call bubbles, my 




CONVERSATION ON WIND. 



141 



dear, are nothing but portions of air coming out of the 
phial, as the water gets into it. in the same manner 
that the water ran over the tumbler, to make room for 
your hand. 

Child. — But. mother, you told me that we could not 
move a finger without moving the air too. 

Mother. — That is true; the air surrounds us on all 
sides : and whenever we move, the air which is in the 
place where we move to moves out of our way, and 
goes to the place where we moved from. You see, 
theii, that whenever anything is moved, the air must 
move out of the way, so as to make room and go into 
the place which was occupied by the thing that was 
moved. 

Child. — And is that what makes wind, mother) 

Mother. — No, it is not; there are other causes 
which produce wind. I told you. when we were talk- 
ing about heat, that it made most things grow larger, 
or swell out, and occupy more space. I showed you 
that heat caused water to turn into steam, and grow 
much larger than it was when it was water. Heat pro- 
duces the same effect upon air. It makes it swell out. 
and occupy more space. 

Child. — Dear mother, can air be made to grow 
larger ? 



142 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — Yes. my child, and smaller too. Do you 
know how your cousin George fills his foot-ball ? 

Child. — Yes. mother; I have seen him blow through 
a quill into the bladder, and fill it full, and then tie up 
the bladder tight and crowd it into its case, and then 
lace up the case tight. 

Mother. — Here is a bladder, just like the one your 
cousin George has in his foot-ball. You see that it is not 
full, and that it is tied up tight, so that no more air can 
get in or out. Take it, my dear, and hold it near the 
fire, and you will see what effect the heat from the fire 
has upon the air in the bladder. 

Child. — Why, mother, the air in the bladder has 
swelled so much that it has filled the bladder quite full. 

Mother. — Now, take it, Caroline, and put it out of 
the window a few minutes, and then bring it to me. 

Child. — I have done so, mother, and the bladder does 
not look so full as it appeared before I held it to the fire. 

Mother. — No, my child, because the cold air has 
made it shrink, or grow smaller. You see, then, that 
the air can be made to swell out and grow larger by 
heat, and to shrink, or grow smaller, when it is cold. 
Now, this is the cause which produces wind. The sun 
shines very powerfully in some places all the time, and 
makes it very hot ; and thus the air gets heated and 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 143 

swells out ; and then, when it grows cold again, it 
shrinks; and this makes the air keep swelling and 
shrinking, and produces that motion of air which we 
call wind. 

Child. — You told me, mother, that no two things 
can be in the same place at the same time. Now, 
when I put the tumbler into a pail, or basin of water, 
what is the reason that the air does not come out of the 
tumbler before the water goes in ? 

Mother. — It does, my dear; and we cannot put water 
into any vessel which we call empty, until the air has 
had an opportunity to come out. 

Child. — But I do not see any bubbles, mother, when 
I fill the tumbler of water from the pail. 

Mother. — No, of course you do not, because the 
water mshes in all at once, and fills the tumbler, and 
you see no bubble and hear no sound, unless the tum- 
bler gets below the surface of the water before it is 
filled. Now, Caroline, take the tumbler, and having 
turned it upside down, put it down into the water upside 
down. 

Child. — The water does not go into the tumbler at 
all, mother. 

Mother. — How can it, my dear 7 there is no way for 
the air to get out of the tumbler, and the water cannot 



Ml 



JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



go into the tumbler until the air has come out. You 
recollect that I told you that those things which are 
lighter than water will always ascend in water; and 
therefore the air must go upwards, because it is lighter 
than water ; and when it goes upwards, it cannot get out 
of the tumbler, because while the bottom of the tumbler 
is uppermost, it prevents the air from coming up. 

Child. — But, mother, how did the air get out of the 
phial when it was under the water, so that the water 
might get into the phial ? 

Mother. — It came out of the mouth of the phial; for, 
if you recollect, you put the phial into the water with 
the mouth uppermost. Now empty the phial, and put 
it into the water upside down. 

Child. — Why, look, mother! when I put the phial 
into the water upside down, the water will not go into 
the phial at all, any more than it did into the tumbler. 

Mother. — Of course it will not; and I suppose that 
you now understand the reason why. 

Child. — Oh, yes, mother; there is no way for the air 
to come out of the phial, unless it can go down and out 
of the mouth of the phial ; and you told me that air 
could not go down in the water, because it is lighter than 
water. 

Mother. — You are right, my dear; but I have not 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 145 

yet told you all that I intended to.show you, to convince 
you that nothing can occupy the place where air is, 
until the air is first removed. 

I am going to let the air all out of the bladder, and 
then you shall see me fill it with air, and tie it up tight. 

And now, Caroline, that I have done it, you may 
take the bladder and squeeze the sides together. 

Child. — I cannot do it, mother; there is something 
hard now inside of the bladder, so that I can squeeze it 
but a little ; and as soon as I have done squeezing it, it 
swells out again, as plump as it was before. 

Mother. — There was nothing in it, my child, but air, 
and you saw me put it in. 

Child. — But, mother, if there was nothing in the 
bladder but air, that seemed so hard, why does not the 
air around me feel hard too ? 

Mother. — Because the air around you is not confined, 
my dear, and when you press it it gets out of your way. 
Now, the air in the bladder was confined, and could not 
get out of the bladder, and therefore felt hard. But I 
will now untie the bladder, and you may then try to 
press the sides together. 

Child. — Why, mother, I can press the sides of the 
bladder together very easily now ; but the air has all 
gone out of the bladder. 



146 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — Yes. my dear; and now I wish you to 
take a pitcher, and pour some water from the pitcher 
quickly into the phial. 

Child. — It will not go into the phial, mother; it has 
run all over the sides of the phial, but there is scarcely 
a drop of the water in the phial. 

Mother. — No, Caroline ; you poured the water so fast 
that it stopped up the mouth of the phial, and prevented 
the air from coming out; and, of course, the water could 
not go in, while the air was there. 

Child. — I think I understand it now, dear mother; 
and now that you have explained it to me, it appears so 
simple, and easy to understand, that I am almost sur- 
prised that I did not find it out myself. 

Mother. — All things appear simple, and easy to 
understand, my dear, after we have found them out. 

But our great and good Creator has seen fit to 
surround us with objects that we do not at first under- 
stand, in order that we may have an agreeable occupa- 
tion in endeavoring to find them out. He has given us 
beautiful fields, capable of producing fruits, and flowers, 
and vegetables, for our use ; but he has left the labor of 
tilling the ground and sowing the seeds to us. He has 
furnished us with the means of clothing ourselves, and 
given us the materials to build beautiful houses to 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 147 

protect us from the weather: but he has not made our 

clothes, nor built our houses for us. He has placed his 

wonders all around us, but he has not explained them 

to us himself. But he has kindly given us powers by 

which we can readily supply all that he has wisely left 

undone, and we are thus enabled to look through 

Nature up to Nature's God; and truly may we say : 

" Happy the man who sees a God employed 
In all the good and ill that chequer life." 

Child. — Mother, I have only one more hard question 
to ask you now. You have been very kind to me, to 
explain so many things to me, so that I can now 
understand them. But when you were talking about 
my little brother's whip and whistle, you told me that 
it was the air that made the noise. Now, mother, 
what is the reason that light and heat, when they 
move, do not make a noise, as well as air ? 

Mother. — I will answer your question by asking 
another. You hear the sound, but do not see it. You 
see the light, and feel the heat, but do not hear it. 
What is the reason that we do not hear the light as 
well as see it, and why do we not see the heat as well 
as feel it ? 

Child. — Why, mother, those are very hard ques- 
tions, and I am sure that I cannot answer them. 



148 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 

Mother. — I presume not, my dear, and I did not 
expect that you could. Can you tell me why you do 
not walk on your hands, stand on your head, and feed 
yourself with your feet ? 

Child. — Dear mother, what strange questions those 
are ! 

Mother. — Not more strange, my dear, than the 
question, why we do not see a sound. It has pleased 
our great Creator to give us certain organs, faculties, 
and powers, for particular purposes, and for them alone. 
He placed us on our feet, that we might stand firmly ; 
enabled us to walk with our lower limbs, and designed 
that we should use our hands to feed ourselves, and to 
serve the other organs. He has given us also particu- 
lar faculties, called the senses, by which we are enabled 
to see, hear, smell, and taste. The eyes are used for 
seeing, and for seeing alone. The ear, for hearing: 
the nose, for smelling; the mouth, for tasting; while 
the whole body is endowed with the sense of feeling. 

Now, there are some things which are the objects of 
all these senses. For instance, when you are enjoying 
your cake, you can see it, feel it, smell it, and taste it; 
and you can also hear the sound you make in biting 
and chewing it. You see, then, Caroline, that each 
sense affords you both knowledge and enjoyment. 



CONVERSATION ON WIND. 149 

You know some of the objects around you by seeing 
them; others by hearing them; others again by feeling 
them, and again others by smelling and tasting them: 
and thus you can be made to understand, partly at 
least, what the Bible tells you in the book of Psalms, 
where it says that we are fearfully and wonderfully 
made. How good, then, must that great Being be, who 
made us, and gave us all the blessings that we enjoy, 
and the means of enjoying them ! 

When you are older, my dear, you will be able to 
understand more of the meaning of that sentence which 
I have just repeated from the book of Psalms. You will 
then understand what is meant by the expression that 
God made man in his own image. You will see that 
your body is but one part of that being which you call 
yourself. That you have a more noble nature, called 
the Intellectual, by which you are enabled to think, to 
reason, to compare, and to judge. And finally, you will 
learn more of yourself, and discover that there is still a 
nobler part of you, called your Spiritual being, wiiich 
will live long after everything else has died away, and 
which cannot be satisfied with the things of this world, 
but aspires to the happiness of a future state, where 
you shall see God as he is, and know even as you 
are known. 



150 JUVENILE PHILOSOPHY. 



QUESTIONS TO CONVERSATION NINTH. 

What do fishes live and swim in ? 

What do we live and breathe in? -\ 

Can you see the air ? 

How do you know that there is such a thing as air, if you cannot 
see it ? 

What makes the noise from a whistle ? 

Where is the air ? l 

What makes the noise heard in fanning one's self? 

What is wind ? 

What puts the air in motion, to cause wind ? 

When you put anything into a vessel full of water, why does the 
water run out ? 

Can two things occupy the same place at the same time ? 

What are the bubbles that come from an empty bottle, when it is 
first put under water ? 

When anything is moved, what becomes of the air that was in the 
place to which it was moved ? 

What effect does heat have upon air? 

What effect has cold on air ? 

What produces that motion of the air which we call wind ? 

Why will not the water go into a bottle or a tumbler placed upside 
down in the water ? 

Why will not the air come out of the tumbler, when it is upside 
down ? 

Why can you not pour water fast into an empty bottle ? 

What is the reason that light and heat cannot be heard, as well as 
air? 



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I auntur Arithmetic. 

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■ otuetrj -.i it Mensuration. 
Bo<irdoii'-* Algebra 
Legi mire's Geometry. 
El ineitfs of Surveying. 
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Ditfere;it:al mid integral Calculus. . 
i > •■-.•■ • tive Geometry. 
Sh l< b, Shadows, and Perspective. 
Lo^ic of Mi-hematics, (in press.) 



! ' ker's Ju venQe Philosophy. 

P ...-, ■"- i i ret Lessons in Natural Phi'--. 
;• ki r- Compendium of School Pinto*. 
Min r's Gui 1e. or Metallartr'sris Direct tf) . 
i lespie oi Koads ami Railroads. 

.! k- ■ '» 1 '•■ itise on i iplics. 

Mel lire ' n Lh I se u! 11 e lobes; 



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1 \ j: nan's Key todoi 

{,1^1. iV Writing Books. 

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Bnmks' Greek L'ollrctaiKM Ev riiffeSca. 

< , ': .V- i li Read* r. 

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Chamber V Treasury, o r K . to wle«j 
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Chambers" Xatony I • m ■*< j-. 
Reid audi Bain-VCli*) * 
Hamilton's V'e'^et. and . m 
Cham!) i nis o 

Page's FJeasentfl . : > 



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Witlatd' ;■: ' ;• o ht I.'.-in-ti 

Vt illard'i? -- ! i>i ■ i,.- I . Mai 

Wilfenf; i't :■ ... in h )>;..'. 

WiUard'a Ami ..." ono^rapher. 

Willurd'- .. ' me. * '.'•> nt'-l .) 

Willard'- I r i ... nk-forui.j 

WillartP; ' -.•.. . r ..ii- r. 

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Ncrthenu > f.UUe p 

N< rthend's American *»fu after. 

NortJjfiul's Sehool hi .: - •- 

Parker'}; felhetorical Reader. 

Parker's Series of School Fenrie<s> 

Walts on The Mind. (Wfil ■■:<>, -'i 

D nn'uj ., r 's Ancient Classical ' • • ogj 

K ingsley's J 1 1 senile Hioir 

K, a.r-!<- • '- ■ .; I ad ; t • -,• 

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